


Absolution

by kiranightshade



Series: Absolution [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Erica, Derek will get all the nice things, Garage scene, Human Boyd, Human Erica, If it kills me, M/M, Pack Bonding, Protective Boyd, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Scott is a Bad Friend, Slow Build, Stiles takes the Bite, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Sheriff is a bad parent, The sheriff might just be bad at being a concerned parent, The slow build did in fact kill me, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, so help me god, the sheriff's name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Absolution: the act of forgiving someone for having done something wrong or sinful





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howlingstiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlingstiles/gifts).



> This is my steter secret santa piece for vohnemet. Hope it's what you were hoping for. Sorry it's late.
> 
> Thanks so much for the title suggestions. I won't say no to more! I will most likely use them for chapter titles if I decide to do that. Either way they will remain on my list of future titles.

“Yes or no?”, Peter has his wrist in his hand and promises on his tongue. Scott can’s see it but being a werewolf is kind of amazing and now that Stiles knows Peter has an end date to the murders. Knows what those people did, he expects things to calm down some. Information is the name of the game and Stiles can’t look down on someone who would go to such lengths to avenge the loved ones he couldn’t save. 

“Only the responsible ones.” 

Peter grins, and bites. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles has a gun. Oh thank god, Stiles has a gun and now Kate is standing down with her weapon on the ground. Scott wasn’t sure what he was gonna do. Die, probably, but not now. Stiles is so great, always having his back. Scott doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stiles so still before. Cold and detached as he holds another’s life in his hands. Something about it doesn’t sit right with Scott but he knows Stiles won’t actually hurt her. He was raised by the sheriff. If anyone values the justice system it’s him. Still, she doesn’t call his bluff and is now going on about how he’s a traitor to his kind and she’s only serving justice. God, justice? This wasn’t Scott’s fault! Peter’s the monster here, not him! He’s the victim here! 

Derek groans and in the time it takes for Scott to look back up Peter is behind Allison on the porch. His eyes widen as Peter silently knocks her out and, before anyone can so much as twitch, has Kate held against him with his claws against her neck. 

Scott can’t move. He watches in horror as Peter forces an apology from her lips before ripping her throat out in the middle of the clearing. Rage burns through Scott at the sight of this this monster going around doing whatever he wants. Turning him, ruining his life. 

Derek said there was a cure.

He lunges at Peter. Claws and bites at whatever he can get to. Keeps getting up again and again and again every time not alpha knocks him down. He just needs to get to his neck. Just one slash and this will all be over. Just one shot and him and Allison can be together and everything will go back to normal.

Eventually, he is pinned down by a grinning Peter. Panting from excursion and weak from blood loss, he struggles but it’s useless. One beta can’t defeat an alpha alone. 

Aside from lowering his gun to the ground, Stiles hasn’t moved.

“Shoot him! Stiles! Help me!”

Peter somehow manages to grin even wider, “Oh you poor little idiot. Stiles has already helped you. He’s the only reason you’re still alive. The only reason I’m letting you go.”

“Stiles?”- Scott looks to him, desperation riddled with confusion in his tone- “Stiles what is he talking about?”, he trails off at the sight of accusing white bandages wrapped around Stiles’ wrist.

Rage consumes him once more as hi spits out, “You monster. How dare you.” He’s struggling again, or at least he would if Peter didn’t have such a death grip on him. 

They were so distracted by the exchange that they forgot Derek was even there, allowing him to attack while Peter’s back was turned. Or he attempted to. Mid-lunge, Derek felt the all too familiar pain of a bullet running through his thigh. He falls to the ground before a second stabbing pain sounds in his other leg. He looks up to Stiles pointing the gun to his face. His eyes are stone and, wolfsbane or not, he would have to be extremely lucky to survive a shot between the eyes. Wisely, he stills. Not so wisely, he growls at Stiles as his flesh nits back together. Stiles isn’t impressed. Scott is horrified. Peter, having looked back at the commotion, seems to be looking more gleeful by the second. 

“Such a loyal little beta isn’t he. So ruthless too. Oh, I am lucky to have caught him.”, Peter drawls. Stiles rolls his eyes but doesn’t move an inch from where he has Derek pinned. 

“You can’t have him you…”

“Scott”-Stiles sighs- “What part of this makes you think I didn’t agree to this.” 

“I-I don’t understand”, Scott starts.

“Stiles had every opportunity to refuse me. He simply didn’t.”, Peter would be preening if he weren’t otherwise occupied. Stiles doesn’t think smirks should look that satisfied. Peter moves so that he’s pinning his arms with his knees and choking him until Scott is unconscious. The bruises will fade by morning and Scott will be home in bed by the time he wakes up. Derek moves as if to help but a quick warning from Stiles keeps him in place as Peter saunters over to his beta. Eyes never leaving Derek’s, Peter wraps his arms around Stiles from behind and runs his nose behind Stiles’ ear, “Beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Quit being so damn dramatic. It’s been a long day and I’d like to sleep at some point tonight.”, Stiles grumbles.

Peter looks to Stiles and his grin softens into something Derek would call fond if it were anyone else,” Of course. How rude of me”- he looks to Derek- “Stiles here would like some rest and I think we both can agree he deserves at least that much. Don’t you think?”, Peter releases Stiles to stand over Derek who scrambles back.

Everything goes dark.

 

*** 

 

Stiles puts the gun to safety before putting in the holster under his arm. He’ll have to return it before his dad notices its absence. Peter has his hand out. An invitation to be near his alpha. He takes it and looks down at Derek’s unconscious form. Stiles sighs,” We can’t just leave them here.”

“I could always leave them naked in Scott’s bed.”, Peter suggests.

Stiles laughs, “I’d say ‘nice one’ but something tells me you actually would.”

Peter hums, “I suppose I could leave them fully clothed, but where would be the fun in that?”

“I’m not stripping your nephew.”

“No. You are going to drive home, get ready for bed, and then wait for me.”

Stiles gives him a dubious look but let’s go of his hand to start the trek to where he parked his jeep. Peter fixed his keys but now they feel all wrong in Stiles’ hand; he’ll have to replace them. He hopes his dad isn’t home yet. That would make the whole empty safe thing a tad awkward. 

By the time he makes it to his jeep, his limbs are sore. By the time he makes it to his driveway, he’s barely keeping his eyes open. On autopilot, Stiles returns the gun, makes a mental note to replace the bullets, changes into a pair of sweats and a batman t-shirt, and face-plants onto his bed. Vaguely, he realizes that his dad’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway before he passes out. 

 

***

 

A distant shuffling noise breaks through the fog of sleep. Then someone is carrying him. More shuffling. He’s being set down only to be joined by something big and warm. Stiles curls up into it and falls back asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles’ new senses kicked in earlier than they did with Scott, or maybe he just knows what to look for and Scott didn’t. Either way, Stiles woke to two all-encompassing arms holding him to a steady heartbeat that immediately settled something in him after the almost freak-out to waking up with another person. Alpha’s scent was the second thing he noticed. It’s difficult to describe it as anything other than safe, addicting, intoxicating. Alpha nuzzling into his hair made him realize he’s been doing the same to his chest and he can feel his cheeks heat.

“Now, now. None of that. Don’t ever be embarrassed for wanting to mark your pack. Much less your alpha.”, Peter’s voice broke the spell Stiles was under and awareness took its place. He pulls back far enough to rub the crust out of his eyes and looks up to Peter, “Whoa, that was weird. Did I just lose control? There was a severe lack of bloodlust going on for me to have lost control. What was that?”

“You woke up more wolf than man. It happens. Once you learn to properly integrate your new instincts with the old, it’ll be second nature to switch back and forth or to be a perfect blend of the two. Like breathing.”, Peter explains. Stiles doesn’t get it. Whenever Scott lost control he tried to kill something, usually him. “Whenever Scott lost control he tried to kill something.”, Stiles retorts.

 

“Scott has never woken up surrounded by pack”, Peter replies, “and losing control doesn’t mean going looking for someone to kill. When I lost total control after receiving the alpha power, my instincts sought out a pack. So I bit the first person I came across.” 

“So you reacted to your surroundings like if you were just a wolf.”, Stiles concludes, “I guess that makes sense. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole bloodlust thing was hunter propaganda in the first place, now that I think about it.”

Peter smiles down at his truly remarkable beta. He really is lucky to have found him. “And to think that you’ve only been a wolf for a few hours, yet you understand our kind better than some of the born wolves I’ve met.”

“Well, I’ve been told, I am the clever one.”, Stiles quips, not one to be flattered into speechlessness. His grin rivals Peter’s before he sighs, “Scott is not going to take this well.”

“You let me worry about Scott. Mistake or not, he’s my bitten and I will take responsibility where it’s due.”, Peter sits up. Bringing Stiles up with him. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that school is on Monday. I can’t avoid him forever.”

“Then don’t worry about him until Monday. Besides, we don’t even know if you’ll be going to school.”, Peter says, leading Stiles through the hallway and down the stairs. 

“What do you mean I might not be going?”, Stiles didn’t squawk. He didn’t. 

Peter doesn’t answer until he has Stiles sitting at the kitchen island and begins preparing what looks to be eggs and the real bacon Stiles keeps hidden. “First, we need to build up your control. High schools are very busy and very loud. You don’t want to walk in there only to lose it because of a bit of sensory overload.”- he loads two plates- “We will be spending today far from any distractions in the human world to work on those senses.”- a plate piled high with two sunny-side ups, five pieces of bacon, and a mountain of scrambled eggs mixed with bacon bits is set in front of Stiles. - “You’re going to learn how to take in the world around you and control how much you can focus on at a time. By Monday, if you can handle sudden loud noises without flashing your eyes you can go to school. If not, we will spend Monday the same as the weekend until you can.”, Peter sits beside Stiles with his own plate. The following ten minutes are filled with the scrape of forks and Stiles moaning because, “Damn, you can cook.” Peter’s lips curve but remains silent until the dishes are soaking and he’s leading Stiles out the back door. 

“Dude, my jeep’s that way”, Stiles half asks, pointing in the opposite direction. It isn’t until he is in the bit of forest that leads into the preserve does he get it. Sort of. “Where are we going exactly?”

Peter gives him a look. 

“But what about the hunters? How deep are we going? Do you have like a secret clubhouse where you train the werebabies?”, Stiles quiets when Peter’s ‘really’ becomes a very clear ‘shut up’. 

Instead Stiles decides to focus on everything he can hear now. There’s a chipmunk chowing down on something nearby, birds are flying but he doesn’t see any, his head zips behind him at the sound of a rattlesnake only to find nothing there, he even thinks he saw a fox run by. If Peter is annoyed by all of Stiles’ twitching, he doesn’t mention it. However, he does draw Stiles close as they walk. He leans into it and lets the scents flow in next. It’s like everything has been amped up to a hundred. He can smell the leftovers of some animal’s dinner in the bushes, the scents of cedar and pine and oak all blend together as the wind rushes by, the overlaying paths of various animals almost seem to take visible form along the forest floor. He could get lost in this.

He does get lost in it. Everything sort of blurs together until Peter stops him at the edge of a clearing. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking or how far they’ve gone, but everything about this place seems almost inviting. It’s nothing special; just a field with a few boulders cluttered together in one corner. Yet, there’s a stream running somewhere to the right and there’s just enough chatter through the trees to be soothing. He walks a few feet into the clearing while Peter walks around it. He keeps checking the trees, which Stiles doesn’t get but he’s sure it will be explained so he doesn’t pry. Peter has been pretty good about the whole explaining things this time, Stiles realizes. He’s been pretty good about a lot of things this time. He’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the clearing, pondering the differences in Peter’s behavior, by the time his alpha returns to him. 

Peter squats down to eye level in front of him, “The wards are still intact. I had to re-enact them, but they’re functional. No hunter or anyone outside the pack can track us here.”

Stiles smiles, “You’ll have to explain that to me in more detail later.” 

“It would be my pleasure.”- Peter mirrors Stiles’ position – “Now, I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of meditation-” “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of ADHD.”, Stiles interrupts, eyebrow raised.

Peter huffs, “Yes well, you were able to focus well enough on the way here. Just give it a try. If this doesn’t work we can try something else, but this is the quickest way I know how to teach you.” Stiles rolls his eyes but complies. “My eyes are closed, now what.”, Stiles declares, posture straightening, hands on knees. 

Peter evens out his voice into something he hopes is calming, “Now just listen to me and we’ll see just how far we can focus those senses. Stretch your ears as far as you can and tell me what you hear.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and focuses on sound far better than he ever remembers being able to before, “I can hear a stream nearby. Behind you. There’s something there. A deer maybe, drinking. Some chipmunks are fighting in the closest tree to the right of us. They’re making a bunch of leaves fall. I can hear a fox running across them and away. Everything is almost silent in the clearing. Like we’re the only living creatures here. The wards I’m guessing. But I can hear the wind moving between the grass blades. And I think…a bug of some kind is …chirping? Clicking? Something. Something big is splashing about the stream now. The deer maybe. Wait. No. the deer is running away. It’s circling the clearing and is now running behind me. The big thing is still splashing about the stream. I can hear our heartbeats. Yours is steady. It’s a comforting sound. It’s because you’re an alpha isn’t it, or my alpha I suppose. I imagine a foreign alpha would put my teeth on edge. I can hear your every breath. Each inhale. Each exhale.”, Stiles huffs out a laugh. 

Thunder claps inches from his face. Before he can process what happened he has a wrist clenched in his own claws. Chest heaving, Stiles opens his eyes to see his alpha smirking as five beads of blood flow down his forearm. One by one he removes his claws. The wounds close before he even lowers his arm. His jaw feels full. Like it has too many teeth yet just the right amount at the same time and Stiles knows that, were he to look into a mirror, his eyes would be gold. The shift seems to have heightened all his senses even further. What was an absent clicking, now thunder clapping in his ears. The stream like the roar of a waterfall. Their heartbeats are now two massive drums that won’t relent. Whining, he pushes against his ears. Trying desperately to make it stop. 

Then everything is blocked off by Alpha. It’s just Alpha’s heartbeat in his ears. Just Alpha’s scent filling him up. He clings to him and feels coarse fur where skin and cloth should be. Large arms draw him in and surround him. Slowly, his breathing matches his alpha’s and he’s able to think clearly enough to realize there’s a giant wolfman curled overtop of him. Stiles pulls back from where he’s practically sitting in Peter’s lap and says, “I need an anchor. That was horrible.”

Peter shifts back and puts back on the pile of clothes to the side. “An anchor?”

“Well, yeah. I need something to hold me down to my humanity and keep my heartrate down. You know, like…” “An anchor.”, Peter finishes. “So that’s how you got Scott to resist me. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it called an anchor before but yes. You’re right. Most everyone uses their pack bonds as their anchors. It’s why stable omegas are so rare. Most would say they don’t exist but, well, Derek hasn’t lost complete control yet now has he. Pack bonds are the easiest and most reliable tethers a wolf has. Our pack is young but if you look, you’ll find one connecting us.”

Stiles does look. What he finds makes him smile. It’s weird but natural all the same. Now that he’s aware of it, it almost feels like he could reach out and tug on it. The little thread connecting beta to alpha. It’s fragile though, in its youth. Fragile and precious because this means he’ll never be alone again. Unlike the oppressing force Scott described, its welcoming and warm. Affection rushes through the bond. The suddenness of it leaves Stiles breathless as he looks up to Peter. He’s holding his hand out again and again Stiles doesn’t hesitate to take hold and stand beside his alpha. “How did you do that?”

“Send emotions through the bond? Instinct mostly, though practice can leave more precise messages. Not telepathy. More like an empathic link. The stronger the bond the stronger the message. But more on that later. Now I want you to open your senses again.”

Stiles cringes but obeys. Closing his eyes, he takes in the forest once more.

His alpha never lets him go.

*** 

Stiles practices filtering the sounds around him until dark. He returns to an empty house and a voicemail from his dad about wrapping up the Hale fire and Kate Argent and a pendant that has Stiles looking to Peter expectantly. Peter simply smirks and makes dinner. Other than that morning, Stiles can’t remember the last time someone actually sat him down to cook him anything. Actually, yes he can remember and then he very decidedly stops remembering. Something in his scent must have given him away because Peter gave him this look before returning to the stove when Stiles shrugged him off. 

It’s then that Stiles realizes he still has the makeshift bandage on his wrist and promptly disposes of it. Dinner’s ready by the time he gets back. It’s…nice.

*** 

The days leading to Monday were filled with Alpha. Alpha’s scent. Alpha’s warmth. Alpha’s guidance. And by Monday Peter begrudgingly lets him go to school. He still thinks Stiles could use some more practice but, while he still lets his claws out at times, his eyes don’t flash without his say-so. Regardless, Stiles can feel the pride resonate through their bond and that gives him the confidence he needs to last a day in high school. 

*** 

Everything’s loud. The lockers are loud. The people are loud. The cars are loud. The bell is traumatizing, but he gets through it. Not a single flash of the eye and so far, not even a slip of the claw. He spends so much energy trying to keep an eye on when the bell will ring and actually paying attention in class that he almost doesn’t notice that he hasn’t seen Scott all day. Almost being the key word here. It all becomes blaringly obvious when he’s suddenly dragged into an empty classroom. His wolf breaks out at the attack and Stiles finds himself holding Scott single-handed by the neck, a foot off the ground, and against the wall. His claws are biting into Scott’s neck and there’s a tingling in his throat that means he’d been growling a moment ago. Dammit. So close to a full day with no mishaps and this happens. Concern makes its way through the bond at his frustration but Stiles sends reassurance in its place. He’s been practicing that to. Mostly, he’s only been able to give off strong emotions and then only by accident but this one makes its way if the ‘if you say so’ he’s getting says anything. Don’t ask him how he knows; he has no idea.

Right. Scott. Should probably let him down now.

In the time it takes for Scott to find his balance, stop coughing, and to give him a glare that fails to mask his fear, Stiles is completely human and sporting a look that says ‘What did you expect to happen?’

“Dude, are you okay?!”

Now Stiles is confused. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t you…Stiles, Peter bit you!” Scott’s got this incredulous look on his face. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, “He made you do all those things. He turned you. I…just…we’ll get him back.” – Oh no, Scott’s got his determined face on. – “we can track him and take him down once and for all.”, Scott growls.

Stiles snaps, grabs hold of Scott’s throat again, sans claws, and shoves him against the wall. Something cracks and Stiles doesn’t think it’s Scott’s thick head. 

“Do not. Threaten. My alpha.”, Stiles growls, “Now listen to me very carefully Scott. I am exactly where I want to be. Doing exactly what I want to be doing. With exactly who I want to be doing it with. It would be amazing if you would join our pack, but you won’t be forced to. Not like before. Scott, he’s gotten better. The murders were never indiscriminate and he has a pack to anchor him now.”, Stiles looks to him hopefully, but Scott only hardens. He manages to turn them around so he has Stiles’ front pinned to the wall and promises, “I won’t give up on you. He’s got you all messed up but don’t worry.”, and then he’s gone. Stiles groans. This is gonna be a shitshow; he knows it. 

The next week passes by mostly the same. He spends every moment not at school training in the woods with Peter. Every night the sheriff isn’t home is a night Peter cooks Stiles dinner. He’s gotten a bit addicted to Peter’s cooking by now and is begging him to teach him his ways. Peter reply never changes, “When you can go a whole full moon without losing control then I will start teaching you something else.” 

If nothing else, it motivates Stiles even more to go through his first full moon without so much as a flash of the eye. He’s got an entire month and he plans to take shameless advantage of it. Peter’s also taken to sleeping in Stiles’ bed every night. He says it’s for pack bonding but Stiles just thinks he doesn’t actually have anywhere else to sleep. Not that he’s complaining. He is quickly learning to love waking up to somebody. 

After the hundredth time Scott tried to “help” him, Stiles started to avoid him. He’s tried to explain to Scott and he just. won’t. listen. It’s infuriating. All he goes on about is how he’s being brainwashed by Peter’s alphaness or, when Scott is particularly frustrated, how Stiles is abandoning him and somehow he always manages to bring Allison into it. The second time, Scott tried to convince Stiles that Peter was a sexual predator because, turns out, he did leave Derek and Scott naked in Scott’s bed that night. Scott wasn’t as amused as Stiles thought he should be. Peter thought it was hilarious at dinner that night how miserable Scott truly was at using his senses if he couldn’t tell that nothing was done to him. 

“Trust me. If there was even a whiff that suggested I molested that poor boy, Derek would have already come knocking instead of aggressively staring at you every day.”

Stiles snorts, “That would suggest he wouldn’t just barge in fully shifted.”

That’s another thing. Derek hasn’t said one word to either Peter or Stiles since that night. And Stiles may not know where exactly Peter goes during the school hours but he can’t be spending it all within the warded clearing. Nevertheless, Derek has been borderline stalking Stiles since day one. Part of him is worried that Derek will kidnap him out of some misplaced sense of duty but most of him is making bets with Peter on how long it’ll take for him to break. 

Things went eerily well on the avoid Scott front on Friday. That probably doesn’t bode well.

The sheriff took a double shift on Friday night so Stiles decided that this was the perfect time to catch Peter up on all things Star Wars. It took two words to convince him to stay in instead of training.

“Pack. Bonding.” 

Stiles is practically giddy all the way through setting the movies up and tugging Peter under his special Star Wars marathon blanket shut up it’s not lame with him and his largest bowl of popcorn smothered in the bottle of melted butter his dad doesn’t know exists.

“This has to be the most teenager thing I’ve done since I was an actual teenager.”

“Shush. Han Solo.”

Neither leaves the couch until morning.

*** 

“Oh, hey dad. You’re home. Well, I’m just about to start dinner so…”, Stiles stops where he was in the process of unpacking what would be their dinner when he sees the look on his dad’s face- somewhere between heartbroken and determined with a dash of rage thrown in. The unease pooling in his gut turns to lead when he sees Scott behind him, determined face in full effect.

“Hey Scotty. What’s going on?” 

Was that too long of a hey?

“We need to talk.”

Shit.

*** 

“You’re going to condemn me for finding a way to help the man instead of killing him?! You are going to look down on me for finding a way everyone can win?! Are you kidding me?! What exactly are you pissed about Scott? What about this has you so upset? It can’t be because you’re threatened by Peter because he doesn’t care about you. He has no desire to coerce you into his pack anymore. It can’t be because he’s unstable because, as I’ve told you, he is improving every day. His vengeance is met. He has a pack. He doesn’t need you, and he wouldn’t bite anyone else the way he did you again either. So it can’t be for fear of him repeating his past mistakes. What is it? Because, if you ever listened to me you’d know I’m not only safe with him but-”

“HE KILLED PEOPLE!” 

“THEY MURDERED HIS FAMILY!”, Stiles roars. 

Their ‘talk’ had quickly dissolved into a screaming match that left the sheriff on the sidelines as more of a spectator than an actual participant. Taking a deep breath, Stiles asks, “What exactly are you mad about?” Everything in the way he stands- from the resignation in his eyes to the defeated tone in which he asks- reveals just how tired he is of running these circles. All week, it’s been nonstop interrogations. Which would have been understandable, and even acceptable, if Scott had ever listened to the answers. To his explanations. But all it boils down to is-  
“There’s a cure. Kill the alpha who bit you and the bite reverses itself. Stiles, you protecting him is condemning me. It’s condemning Allison-” Stiles cuts him off with a raise of the hand. Of course. Of course it was never about Stiles. This entire time, he thought…well it doesn’t matter what he thought because it never was. He doesn’t know when he stopped being a priority for Scott. He doesn’t even know if Scott realizes it himself but the moment Allison came into the picture Scott stopped listening to him. And maybe their friendship is still salvageable. God, he hopes it is but if so then Scott is gonna have to realize what he’s doing and Stiles just can’t see that happening today. 

“You’re not condemned to anything because there is nothing to be condemned to. Come back to me when you can see all that you’ve gained from the bite and what of the bad is no longer an issue. Because, as far as I can tell, the only thing you have to worry about is loving a hunter princess and becoming an omega. Both of which you are bringing upon yourself. I don’t expect you to accept Peter as your alpha and I never did. I hoped, but I didn’t expect you to. I’ll talk to him about your options on that but, in the end, you are going to have to accept what you are. That is just a fact.”, Stiles pauses, “Oh, and if Allison is worth half as much as I think she is, then she won’t let her family’s prejudice stop her from caring for you. I would suggest you try and find some sort of truce with her father but you know how well that family holds to their code.”, Stiles concludes. He gives one last glance to his father that says more than he could possibly articulate right then and goes to make his way to bed. He makes it halfway up the stairs before Scott speaks up- at a normal volume- from the front door. “I thought you had my back.”, Scott spits out, slamming the door behind him. 

 

***

 

John stands frozen, staring at the wood of his son’s bedroom door. He got the rundown of what’s been going on from Scott but if that fight told him anything it’s that he still doesn’t have all the facts. Which is terrifying because he’s having a hard enough time wrapping his head around the fact that werewolves exist and that his boy is now one of them. That his boy chose to be one of them. Or at least, that’s what he’s beginning to think. He can remember the fury that ran through him when Scott came to him. Talking about how he was forced into this and how Stiles was too. Only, worse still, Stiles was manipulated into believing he wanted the bite. The curse that Scott described is…he doesn’t know. Scott mentioned something about the Hale fire, he remembers. And though he only mentioned it, John’s job is to put two and two together and what he finds makes his stomach churn. God, they were good people. He remembered how nearly the whole town came to the funeral. And to think such a tragedy was a hate crime all this time? It makes him sick. It makes him angry and if this is how he feels about a family he only knew of? Then he can’t imagine how he’d feel if it were his own. The very thought of someone torching his boy because they thought him a monster fills him with rage all over again. But there’s still Peter Hale. If anything Scott said was true, then the man is clearly gone insane, and while it’s understandable to go after the ones responsible, that doesn’t explain why he’d terrorize a bunch of teenagers into helping him. He needs more information. He needs to talk to his son. 

John opens the door, ready to ask some questions of his own, to find Stiles curled up in his blankets, wary eyes following his every move. It’s then that he remembers that all his senses are heightened and he probably knew he was there the whole time. He pushes his embarrassment aside to sit on the bed by Stile’s hip and says, “Hey kiddo, seems a lot’s been going on without me.” His attempt at humor is met with stilted silence. 

Stiles is afraid, he realizes. He’s tense and, even laying down, he seems ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Every twitch is catalogued and calculated by him and suddenly John feels very much like a failure. That his son would fear rejection from him is nothing less. 

“I love you, you know. I don’t say it near enough, but I do. Which is why I need to know, do I need to shoot him?” 

Stiles snorts but it sounds an awful lot like relief. He melts into the mattress like all his strings have been cut but his eyes never waver. “No dad. Even when he was feral, he never hurt me. Not really. Okay, so he kinda kidnapped me one time but I’ve totally forgiven him for that and you probably didn’t need to know that, now that I think about it. Just forget that. It was fine anyways; he just needed to find his nephew because the idiot managed to get himself kidnapped and he thought I knew where he was. I didn’t, but I was able to track him. That’s actually when Peter offered the bite to me.”

Luckily, John is an expert in sorting through Stiles’ babble to find the important bits. “Offered?” 

“Yeah, offered. As in yes or no. I don’t know what Scott told you, but I wanted this. I wanted to be Peter’s beta because I saw something in him. For a moment- when he was asking me- I saw what he could become if I gave him a chance and you can’t shoot him okay.”, Stiles pleads, desperation in his words and mania in the way he is gripping John’s sleeve. Before Stiles can notice and –consequently- remove it, John takes his hand into his own and rests them on his lap. Focusing on their clasped hands, he demands, “I’m meeting him. There will be dinner and both of you will be answering all of my questions. And then you’re going to tell me everything I forgot to ask about. And then…and then we’ll go from there.” He looks up to see his son smiling and nodding assurances and generally looking like this went better than he could have hoped. He can’t help but smile back. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, it’s been a long day and we both need some rest so don’t stay up to late. Unless, you’re not like nocturnal now are you?”

Stiles laughs, “No dad, that’s vampires.”

“Right. They don’t- “

“No. wait- “

“Dinner?”

“Yeah.”

They laugh one more time before John closes the door and heads to his own room. For now, at least, they’ll be okay.

 

*** 

 

The slam of his father’s bedroom door was promptly followed by the slide of his window. Stiles doesn’t look up as the scent of wolf and power and protection floods the room, nor does he answer when Peter makes some joke about the dinner he’ll be attending. It isn’t until warm fingers tilt his jaw up to the concern in his eyes that he breaks down. 

The tears are messy. His nose is clogged and everything is getting all over Peter’s shoulder. His claws cling to him and it must hurt but Peter never once let’s go. Never once gives any sign of disgust or irritation, just keeps up a litany of reassuring phrases and endearments. 

Scott was all he had for so long. Him and Scott against the world, and that was fine. He liked it that way. Idiots like Jackson didn’t really matter and lacrosse was always more for Scott anyways. When Scott started getting more popular and having more people in his life, it was a shock to the system. But Stiles could deal. He did deal. He can share. But, more and more, Scott became distant. Neither noticed at first. Hell, Stiles didn’t truly notice until he realized just how easy it was to avoid Scott. Didn’t realize until Scott betrayed him just how strained their friendship had become. Didn’t know just how self-absorbed he’d be once he had the opportunity. Scott knew just how badly he needed his dad to not know about everything, knew how he needed to be the one to explain everything himself when the time came. He can’t see past himself and knowing that hurts because it used to be that they couldn’t see past each other. 

Eventually, the tears run out and the heaving dies down. Peter starts to pull away and Stiles whines- a high-pitched keening noise that he knows he wouldn’t be capable of as a human- but he’s quick to return with the box of tissues from his desk. Exhaustion takes hold as Peter cleans his face. The tender swipes of soft tissue almost lull him to sleep but he manages to blow his nose with the tissue Peter hands him. After that, he lets Peter rearrange his limbs so that he’s curled up under the covers with Peter holding him from behind. 

Regardless of what Scott sees or what his dad decides, he won’t regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this all in a hurry. I hope it doesn't show.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I get to post this. I seriously cannot post anything unless i'm at my grandparent's house so expect updates on Tuesdays and weekends. At least until I get a computer that isn't my school laptop.

Derek breaks on a Sunday. 

Peter was gone when Stiles woke up that morning, but the bed was still warm. For good reason too because not a moment later his dad came in to wake him. It was weird. Stiles doesn’t remember the last time anything other than his alarm clock- and more recently Peter- dragged him out of bed to be a functioning member of society.

Stiles smiled when he found the sandwich waiting for him in the fridge. He frowned when he saw just how barren the fridge had gotten. Last night’s grocery trip had only been for that night’s dinner. Hardly any use now, having been left out all night. Stiles sighs, eats his sandwich, throws out the wasted food, and heads out.

Only to find himself pinned to his jeep with melting ice cream in the trunk. Derek’s pathetic attempts at intimidation were laughable when he was human so he doesn’t really know what Derek thinks he’s accomplishing now. This was bound to happen though. And about time too, whispers had started to form about him and his new stalker. The last thing he wants is for Derek to get arrested. Again. 

Note to self: teach Derek subtly.

Scratch that: Get Peter to teach Derek subtly.

And isn’t that a thought. Stiles didn’t really know what he was gonna do with the whole Derek situation but, now that he thinks about it, it’s sounding more and more appealing by the second. Even now, Derek’s interrogating him. Asking all the why’s and how’s but underneath the accusing persona he’s practically broadcasting how worried he really is.

So, Stiles invites him to dinner.

Derek is, understandably, blindsided by the interruption but Stiles manages to get him into the passenger seat with promises of explanations and food. The cruiser is gone when they pull into the driveway so Derek helps Stiles bring in all the groceries. Dinner doesn’t need to be started for hours and Peter hasn’t shown his face yet. Derek is visibly anxious, though he tries his damnest not to be. It’s actually kind of endearing. 

Stiles leads Derek to one end of the couch so that he can flop down along it with his head in Derek’s lap. Derek tenses but Stiles pretends not to notice. If this goes the way he hopes it does, then Derek is just gonna have to get used to it. 

Stiles turns on the TV and they watch.

 

*** 

Dinner is silent. Derek is so tense it hurts to watch. The sheriff is glaring at Peter. Peter seems to be going for the innocence personified approach but nobody’s buying it. Stiles wants to be amused, but this is serious business dammit. 

The last fork is set down and nobody makes a sound.

“From the beginning”, John demands.

And so they begin.

 

*** 

 

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Dad- “ 

“No. I don’t like someone like that having so much power over you.”

“Dad, if you would just- “

“No. No man should be looking at sixteen-year-old boys like that and you won’t be subjected to that.”

“It doesn’t- “

“N- “

“Listen! I couldn’t leave him even if I did want to- which I don’t! What part of omega didn’t you understand back there?”

“Now listen here, I’m your father- “

“Yeah, well Peter’s my alpha and I refuse to betray him like that.” Stiles slams his door, locking it for good measure.

 

*** 

 

“Stiles, people don’t just get all better like this.”

“Of course he isn’t all better. He’s a thirty-year-old werewolf with no job, no home, and no social life. His very sanity is entirely dependent on a teenage boy. I’ve never claimed that he was all better. What I am saying is he went from a lost cause to a work in progress. Can you accept that?”

“I can try.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what happens when you can only update when you weasle your way to a specific computer? Multiple chapters in one day. That's what you get.
> 
>  
> 
> I felt it was about time we knew what was going on in Derek's head. I've been ignoring him and basically anyone who wasn't the main pairing and plotty things are bound to rear their ugly heads sometime.
> 
> Also, I've concluded that the Teen Wolf timeline is utter BULLSHIT. I'm done with all of this. Gerard is coming to town whenever i damn well please.

“Is this really how you spend your free time? It’s no wonder the town is wary of you.”

Derek turns from where he’d been tracking Scott’s heartbeat to his uncle, striding through the trees until they stand side by side. “One of us has to keep an eye on him.”

“Oh, I think Stiles has proven himself worthy of a little trust. Don’t you think?”

“You know I was talking about Scott” Derek countered. “And don’t pretend like you aren’t constantly scrutinizing your pack bond.”

Peter huffs out a laugh “You’re not entirely wrong, dear nephew. However, I don’t make it a habit to lurk about high school campuses.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I can’t just want to see how my nephew is doing? There are so few of us left these days. You’d think we should wish to stick together.”

Derek stiffens “Tell that to your niece.”

“Now you know that’s not fair.” Peter’s tone darkens, all sense of ease lost.

“Isn’t it? She was our alpha.”

“Your alpha, dear nephew. Never mine. She lost that privilege the moment she left me behind.”

“And that means she deserved to die?” 

“According to tradition, yes. What she decided was nothing short of betrayal and I was well within my rights. However, she is one of my few regrets. Don’t mistake me Derek, I don’t intend to wallow in my guilt. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. Not you. Not me. And certainly not Stiles. – “Peter turns as if to leave- “I’ve accepted what is done and I intend to rebuild the Hale name to what it was in my youth. I hope that will include you.”

Derek can do nothing but watch as Peter leaves.

 

*** 

 

Derek paces in what used to be the living room of the safest place in the world. 

Derek is conflicted. He needs a pack. Peter is his family- the only family he’s got left. He’s the ruling alpha, appears to be a good one even, but that can’t just erase everything Peter’s done. Can’t erase Scott. Can’t erase Laura. She wasn’t the best alpha but she was there. At least for him. The familiar pang of guilt weighs heavy in his chest because this was their fault. What Peter became, it was all because he couldn’t think past his dick and then couldn’t even stick around for the fallout. He promised Stiles he would try. Try to listen. Try to understand.

Try to forgive.

But can he? After everything Peter has done, does he even deserve forgiveness? He claims to have been feral when he killed Laura. If Derek is to believe it, would that be enough? Derek thinks it could. People don’t get condemned for acts of PTSD. At least, he doesn’t think they do. They shouldn’t be. And if he was feral for Laura, Scott would fall under the same category. He did claim to offer a place for Scott. At least to help him find a pack elsewhere. Has he done that yet? Dinner was only the other night so, in all likeliness, probably not. 

If he follows through with Scott. Then the only thing left is the murders. The murders Derek himself could never bring himself to commit. The murders Laura would refuse to even consider. So angry, but so afraid. Part of Derek is glad Peter did what he couldn’t. A rather large part, if he’s being honest. He’s definitely slept better knowing Kate isn’t coming back. Not much, but better. 

So the question remains; Can he truly forgive Peter? Can he stand by his side after these past few months? Can he submit to him?

Maybe. If this isn’t all some act. If this is really him trying to be an alpha.

Maybe he can give Peter a chance.

 

*** 

 

Trees rush past in a blur of cedar and pine as the wind carries their howls for miles. Peter’s hulking mass of muscle and fur races forward and Derek grins. High on the freedom he hasn’t let himself taste for years, he takes chase. 

Nipping at Peter’s heels, Derek knows the alpha is allowing it. This merry game of cat and mouse continues for eons through his woods. And isn’t that a funny analogy. Two wolves playing the cat and the mouse. But is it really such a game if the mouse is the one teasing?

Either way, Derek hasn’t felt so light since…

Since he isn’t going to think about it.

Running for the sake of running. Chasing for the sake of the chase and little else. He’d nearly forgotten what it was like. He almost feels like a cub again, stumbling through the preserve with his siblings. Almost. He is far more graceful now. More powerful. If he were to focus, he wouldn’t hear any birds nearby. Nor a number of creatures that would sense the presence of a predator. If he were to focus even more, he would hear no sound as he makes contact with the ground. Instinctively avoiding dry leaves and brittle twigs. 

But nothing compares to Peter.

He is faster, bigger, more elegant than a mere beta could ever be. He wasn’t like this before Stiles. Before, he was all raw power and rage. And his shift reflected that. Now. Well, now he could swear there wasn’t quite so much fur on his back before. 

That, more than anything, is why Derek feels comfortable letting go like this. Even with the looming threat of more Argents coming to town, the actual, physical sight of Peter stabilizing gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time.

Seeing Peter gives him hope.

 

*** 

 

He doesn’t wake to the sun peeking through scorched wood like usual. Nor to the first drops of rain. It not a particularly brave animal or even drunk humans stomping about the preserve. 

No, he wakes to an angry Stiles looming over him. He’s completely human but Derek still feels the impulse to submit. Which isn’t something he’s felt before in regards to the beta and it’s more of a shock than the fact that Stiles is here at all.

He wonders if he is more pack than he realized or if he’s far closer to falling to omega than he feared.

Both are equally likely, if he’s lower in rank than the cub who hasn’t even seen their first moon yet. It doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it ought. But that doesn’t matter now. Now, Stiles is dragging him out of the house to his jeep, going on about homeless people and acceptable living conditions for pack. Derek is sure he continues because his mouth is still going- even after he’s successfully herded him into the passenger seat and started driving towards town. But all Derek can focus on is that Stiles already considers him pack and he hasn’t even submitted to the alpha yet.

Unsurprisingly, they pull up to the Stilinski house. The cruiser is nowhere to be seen, which is probably why Peter is waiting on the porch, smug as can be. 

“Hey” Stiles cuts into his musings. “Are you even listening to me?”

“huh?”

Stiles huffs indignantly “I said, you aren’t staying in that demolition waiting to happen anymore. We have an extra room. You will be staying there until either you or Peter gets a place of your own.”

Derek quickly shuts his mouth when Stiles levels him with a glare and gives an appeasing nod. Seemingly satisfied, Stiles gets out of the jeep and automatically finds his way into Peter’s arms. Derek watches, transfixed, as Stiles bares his throat without thought. Simultaneously allowing his alpha to scent him and marking Peter in turn by running his hand down the arm wrapped around his waist. 

It isn’t until Peter looks to him that he remembers to get out of the car. 

Anxiety and anticipation build up in swirling knots in his stomach, each fighting to outweigh the other, until suddenly he’s standing within grabbing distance of the two. Stiles is trying to look like he’s not buzzing out of his skin from the suspense; while Peter hasn’t moved an inch. Obviously waiting for Derek to make the final move. 

Did he really want this?

Slowly, so slowly, he takes in a deep breath. Takes in the rapid pace of Stiles’ heart, the careful stillness of Peter’s expression, and deliberately averts his eyes. Feels the desperation start to well up despite his efforts, smells his fear starting to taint the air around them, and bares his throat to his uncle inch by inch until his neck is straining and his heart is pounding.

Torturous seconds pass that feel like hours where nobody moves. Derek knows this is Peter giving him one last out. One last chance to change his mind and leave Beacon Hills behind. And he’s stupidly grateful for that.

But he would also really like to move sometime this year.

He hears the rustle of clothing, footsteps. Followed by a warm hand on his shoulder, sliding up to his jugular. It stays there for a long moment, making Derek’s gulp far more pronounced than it ought to be. Then Peter is slotting himself into Derek’s space, cupping the nape of his neck with one hand and gripping his side with the other. He runs his nose from his collarbone up to where his neck meets his jaw before slotting his fangs around his throat.

And just like that Derek goes boneless, all breath leaving him. Just barely keeping his knees from buckling as two brand new pack bonds snap into place. He can feel them now. He can truly feel his pack. He doesn’t have to rely on his alpha’s triumphant grin to know how satisfied he is. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Stiles is a mix of proud and giddy at their pack’s growth- to know that his grin matches it.

Peter steps back, but only far enough for Stiles to rejoin them. 

Derek takes a good long look at his new pack. 

At the boy who knows what he wants and doesn’t let fear stop him from taking it. Who adapts to an entire world far more gracefully than Derek would ever expect from a human. Who looks predators in the eye even when he knows they are stronger than him. Whose loyalty rivals born wolves. Whose limits depend on his needs and the needs of those he protects.

At his uncle who always fought for his pack. Who always took the less than desirable responsibilities for their sake. Who was always looked down on for those same responsibilities, yet never wavered in his intentions. Who woke up from fire to damning solitude and still fought for his pack, his family. And still continues to fight. Fight for his sanity. Fight for his name. And soon, fight against the very monsters to nearly destroy him in the first place.

Derek matches their grins with a shy smile of his own and thinks, he won’t regret this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing of the vampire diaries.

 

Stiles rushes round the corner as the bell rings only to fall flat on his ass. Groaning, he looks up to see none other than Allison Argent hastily trying to put all her supplies in some semblance of order. All thoughts of seventh period are abruptly shoved aside when Allison notices just who she ran into, consequently widening her eyes before snatching his wrist and dragging him to the nearest empty classroom.

 

“What the hell” Stiles exclaims, yanking his wrist back. “What are- “

 

“What's going on?” Allison interrupts, and Stiles knows he isn't making it to class. “For two weeks I couldn't get anyone to tell me what happened that night. I finally get Scott to break and all I can understand is the alpha is still alive, he killed Kate, and that your, what, his thrall or something?”

 

Stiles takes offense to being called a thrall but before he can say anything-  

 

“And don't give me any bullshit. My own father kidnapped me yesterday for some freak hunter initiation. I don't have any patience to spare.”

 

“I- they've started training you?”

 

“Ohmygod. That's what you got out of all that” Allison hissed.

 

“Well, what did you want me to focus on! I'd like to know if my classmates are being taught to kill me.” Stiles hopes his arm waving emphasizes the big deal this is. 

 

“Well, I'd like to know if my friend is under the control of the man who tried to kill all of us” she counters. 

 

Stiles sighs “If you're talking about the school incident, he isn't what he was then. If you're talking about Kate, she was always his target. Trust me, if he wanted you dead that night he would have snapped your neck and I certainly wouldn't be defending him.”

 

“And why are you with him? You talk as if you chose this.”

 

“Because I did, Allison. Peter offered me a place in his pack and I took it. And I'm sorry, but Kate slaughtered the Hales. She was a psychopath and I don't regret her death. -“ Stiles softens, taking Allison's hand in his- “But I am sorry you lost your aunt.”

 

Stiles stays silent while Allison clears her eyes and pretends not to notice her sniffling.

 

Nodding, Allison gave his hand a light squeeze before letting go “She wasn't who I thought she was. None of them were. Stiles, the alpha. He's not- you're safe with him? You know more than I do about all this; so, it's what you wanted right? The alpha, he- “

 

“Peter is better than I could've hoped. I think having a real pack has helped him a lot.”

“You're sure?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“I- I know you're not stupid so I'll take your word for now. But I'm going to need to know what's going on. Everyone's trying to protect me but- “

 

“but nobody is letting you make your own decisions. Look, I can't promise much right now. I can't just go around telling Argents about my pack, but I'll talk to Peter and maybe we can figure something out.”

 

“Honestly, you've already told me more than my entire family combined.” Allison quiets then, clearly thinking something over. By the sudden amount of teenage girl wrapped around Stiles' person, he'd guess she made up her mind. Startled, it takes a second for Stiles to get with the program and hug her back.

 

“Thank you” Allison whispers, clinging just a bit tighter before pulling back and collecting her binder. “Tell Peter I won't hold back on any information I think could be important. Starting with this, I heard my parents talking about a grandfather I've never met coming for Kate's funeral. I don't know if that's bad but I do know my dad seemed afraid. And if Peter doesn't believe me, so be it, but tell him I'm doing this for you. And maybe… a bit because I didn't do anything for Derek.” 

 

The click of the door closing left Stiles alone just in time for the final bell to ring. Internally wincing, he made his way out to his jeep. Allison was a shock but not necessarily an unpleasant one. And Scott is going to grow into a real problem if he keeps telling people that Stiles is Peter's thrall, god. Stiles didn't even know Scott knew what that word meant. And what is this? The Vampire Diaries? Stiles shakes his head in disbelief and makes his way out of the parking lot. Maybe Allison can get through to him. Stiles will have to ask. And an in with a hunting clan can't be worthless either. 

 

He needs to see Peter.

 

 

*** 

 

 

Stiles had barely shut the door when he was shoved back against it. With a grunt, he contended himself to Derek's scenting but then he started growling. 

 

“Hey, hey it's fine. I'm fine, Allison is fine-hey- Okay, and we're all molesting the Stiles. Guys, there's really no need for this. I'm perfectly healthy. Nobody was threatened. Allison only just found out about werewolves recently; she just wanted someone to not treat her with kid gloves.”

 

“You went with an Argent. Alone. Without telling anyone. A cub-You were vulnerable. So excuse us if we need a little assurance that you're unharmed.”

 

Looking down, Stiles relents “I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you worry. I just- she's being kept out of the loop by everyone who thinks they're protecting her and I thought maybe we could gain an ally. She's only just started her training and she's dating Scott. And she was mostly worried about me. Her most reliable information right now came from Scott so…”- Stiles meets Derek's eyes- “she was worried too.”

 

Derek tucks his head into the side of Stiles' neck- that Peter isn't still nuzzling- and says “She was listening to Kate.”

 

“Only because she was the only one telling her anything. It's not too late. Imagine, their future matriarch loyal to us. How could I possibly ignore that? And it's not like I told her anything about us. She only knows I'm a werewolf because of Scott and I'm not in need of saving. I promised her I'd talk to Peter about sharing information.”

 

“I'm right here, you know.”

 

“he speaks” Stiles exclaims, flailing his arms to the best of his ability. “You alright?”

 

“Hmmm. Don't come in reeking like Argent like that again. Not without warning.”

 

“I won't.”

 

Peter's hands tighten where they're resting on his waist “What reason do we have to trust her?”

 

“Other than the fact that I knew her before she got involved in all this? She's doing it for me, for one. Her guilt for Derek, for another. And she gave us the best bit of info she could to try and prove herself. It's not her fault we already knew it.”

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“Just that Grandpa Argent is coming to town.”

 

“That would be valuable, if she didn't know we overheard Chris already.”

 

“She never once lied to me.”

 

“In that case, I'll be keeping a closer eye on her. If she asks, tell her I'm considering it.”

 

Stiles smiles “Thank you.”

 

“I haven't promised anything.”

 

“The fact that you're thinking about this at all is amazing.”

 

“And you Derek?”- Peter asks- “What do you think?”

 

 Derek seems surprised to be addressed but doesn't hesitate to add “I think she shot me and Scott. I think Kate tried to manipulate her into killing us and she didn't. I think she's confused. Maybe she's trying to reach out to us honestly, but I won't bet my life on it.” With that, he makes his way to the couch and turns on the TV.

 

Stiles turns to face Peter, taking a second to scent the curve of his throat, and says “You know I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think this could be a good thing.”

 

“I know.”

 

Silently, they join Derek. They watch Buffy reruns curled up there, on the couch, with Stiles held between them until dinner.

 

 

*** 

 

 

Stiles rolls to the side just in time for Derek to turn the momentum from the spinning backfist into a one-handed cartwheel. They both land and face off again. 

 

Peter circles them, offering comments now and then but for the most part letting Derek take the lead. They're in the clearing again. The looming threat of Argent making each of them anxious, though they all have different methods of expressing it.

 

Stiles is spending whatever time he can learning everything he can get his hands on. Which works well with Peter's approach, who keeps trying to shove as much information at his beta to better prepare him while simultaneously keeping close tabs on the Argents. Stiles is barely finding time to do his homework with all the time he spends lost in another of Peter's books on Pack law and culture.

 

Derek, however, continues to grow more irritable. More nervous. That's what this is about. Prepare Stiles to defend himself- without revealing what he is, if he can help it- while also getting Derek to let off steam. The fact that he's taken it upon himself to keep track of Scott- and often Allison by association- hasn't improved his temper.

 

The fact that Stiles' mother taught him basic martial arts since he could walk isn't exactly a setback. He's no Black Widow and he hasn't practiced in years, but he could take out your average pedophile or disarm your run-of-the-mill burglar. Now he's incorporating what he knows with his new abilities and, eventually, a proper mix of different styles. 

 

Stiles slips, loses his balance and crashes into one of the boulders. His speed and the angle combines to make a distinct snap and he falls onto his back. Taking deep breaths, he cradles his arm as Derek and Peter rush over. 

 

Derek quickly takes hold of his arm and sets it into place as the bone knits back together. Stiles whimpers but forces himself still. He gasps at the sudden onslaught of endorphins and looks down to see black veins running up Derek's arm before it's swatted away by Peter. Stiles cries out and Derek growls. Peter doesn't even make a sound, but his glare sends ice through their veins. Peter softens at the sight of Stiles instinctively emphasizing his bared stomach and cradles the arm in his own hands. “He needs to learn how to handle pain.”- Grey tendrils trickle up his arm and Stiles breaths a little easier.  “If he can't get back up after a broken arm then he won't be able to hold himself in a real fight.”

 

“Derek, it's okay. He's right and he isn't exactly leaving me to suffer here. Just you wait, I'll be a badass in no time.”

 

Derek doesn't laugh exactly, but he definitely blows more air out of his nose than necessary so Stiles considers it a win. 

 

Still though “When were you guys going to tell me about this little trick anyway? Does it hurt you? Are you healing me? How- “

 

“We're showing you now. Only a shadow of what you would feel. No and it's kind of like redirecting the signals your nerves would be sending to your brain.” Peter interrupts.

 

“Can all werewolves do that?”

 

“No”  Derek pipes up  “This is something only the Hale line can do.”

 

“Wait, so you're like superwerewolves? So is it a blood thing or  “

 

“Any wolf born or bitten by a Hale can leech pain from another. The 'why' we have this ability and others do not is a story we've most likely butchered over the years but we think it had something to do with our ancestor coming here with a witch during the “discovery” of the new world.”

 

“Somehow, the fact that your family has been here since the colonies started doesn't surprise me.”

 

“Our journals tell us we originally shared our land with the Yana tribe.”

 

“Journals?” Stiles asks, as if they just told him Black Widow just got her own movie.

 

“Later.” Peter assures.

 

Stiles calms at the promise of future knowledge, only to start fidgeting after a minute. “So, how long till I can move?”

 

“Give it another twenty minutes.”

 

Stiles groans.

 

 

*** 

 

 

 

Allison had just set the nozzle of the gas pump to her car when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. It could have been nothing. It was dark and she couldn't hear anyone, but that didn't mean she was alone. All it meant was she was alone, at night, outside a gas station near the edge of town and she sensed someone behind her.

 

“Umph.” Peter steps half a step back, pulling the pocket knife out of his side. “l suppose a warm welcome would be too much to ask. I believe you'll be wanting this back then?”

 

Allison gapes at this man's audacity and watches in morbid fascination as his skin knits back together, only leaving torn fabric as proof the injury happened at all. Gathering herself, she fixes a glare as she snatches her knife back from his outstretched hand. “I suppose that means you're the alpha then.”

 

“Call me Peter.”

 

“Alright. Peter, did you know that when women sense a presence when they're supposed to be alone at night, they don't automatically assume local alpha?” Allison snaps.

 

Peter grins “You're perceptive.”

 

Allison raises her eyebrow.

 

“I have been watching you. I can't just accept an Argent's word; you understand?” 

 

Allison shifts her wait to her right foot “I understand. Thank you for answering me.”

 

“I haven't agreed nor disagreed to anything.” Peter answers, amused.

 

“You didn't automatically assume I'm my family. I suppose I have Stiles to thank for that.”

 

“You do. My nephew certainly has reservations for you personally.”

 

 Peter smirks at Allison's wince. 

 

“I am truly sorry for not acting against her. I could give you a number of excuses but I just want the chance to earn forgiveness. I've been doing my own studying. Everything I could get my hands on about pack and hunter alliances and packs in general. There wasn't much but…”

 

Peter stares expectantly.

 

“But I'm going to be the next matriarch and I need to know what's going on. And not from the people who only tell me when they can't get away with hiding it and especially when I know it'll all be biased anyway.”

 

Allison stands there, under Peter's scrutiny, for so long she shifts her weight back to her left side. She hates feeling this unbalanced and feels the urge to repeatedly sheath and unsheathe her knife. Instead, she puts it back in her pocket and meets the alpha's eyes. Peter nods his approval. “Derek, Stiles, and I are currently what makes up The Hale Pack. Our main concerns are teaching Stiles enough control for the full moon and preparing for Gerard's arrival. I've no doubt he will be hostile; his reputation precedes him by decades. Scott has refused to join me and any help I could offer him. If I were to guess, I'd say he was latching onto you in order to keep control and has fooled himself into thinking that will work forever.”

 

“I feel like a broken record, but thanks again. I'll see if I can't talk some sense into Scott.”

 

“I'm sure Stiles would appreciate it. Personally, any responsibility I felt towards the boy has run dry. My offer only stands because Stiles worries for him.”

 

Peter turns to leave.

 

“Wait!” - Allison cries  “I forgot to ask. You bit Lydia, but she's still in a coma. Nothing seems to be wrong with her but she refuses to wake up. Do you have any idea what happened? The bite only has two options; doesn't it?”

 

“Normally it would. But I have a hunch there is more to her than even she knows.” and with that he strides back into the preserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love Black Widow?
> 
> Also, I never outright said puppy pile. But, I mean. Puppy pile.
> 
> I'm going to be completely honest with you here. I completely forgot about Lydia. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Can you hear the plot making the jaws theme? Cuz I can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the whole ice rink idea Stiles had and nobody can take it from me.

Allison needn’t have searched for him because suddenly Scott was right there with a bright smile on his face. Endeared, but not deterred, she takes his hand and leads him out to a quiet hallway. It’s as she reaches the door that she meets eyes with Stiles from where he’s eating. He nods his acknowledgement and goes back to his homework.

Scott kisses her. Then he kisses her again and, as nice as it is, she puts the necessary distance between them and says “We need to talk- oh stop panicking!” She continues once the devastation wanes “I talked to Stiles- “ 

“And he’s leaving Peter!” Scott exclaims, as if Christmas came early.

“No. He’s fine Scott. He’s happy with them.”

“Them?”

“Not important.”

“Allison, he can’t be happy with them.”– Allison internally grimaces at how he says ‘them’ – “He needs help.”

“No, he doesn’t. Look, I’ve talked to Peter- “

“You talked to Peter!”

“Scott!”

“Oh no. He’s gotten into your head too. Ally, he’s a bad man and you can’t trust anything he says.”  
“Don’t treat me as if I’m clueless. I spent all my time these past few weeks either with you or trying to figure out what was going on- long before I ever approached Stiles, by the way- and everything Peter’s told me adds up. A lot more than you’ve ever given me, I might add.”

“Ally, he’s in your head; that’s what he does. It’s okay; he tried to do the same to me- “

“If you’re talking about his offer to help you find a pack, I already know. Why, you ask? Because he told me. He also told me how he did it out of responsibility and how the only reason the offer still stands is because Stiles is worried about you.”

“Stiles is worried about Me?! He’s the one defending a psychopath.” Scott hisses.

Allison shakes her head and head back to lunch.

“Allison” Scott calls out. “Ally-wait! I can help you.” 

Infuriated, Allison turns so fast her hair sways to a startled but earnest Scott. “I’m the one trying to help you, you idiot!”

Both teacher and student part for her once she reaches the cafeteria, and Scott is swallowed by the crowd. She marches her way to a table in the back and sits facing the sole occupant. 

“Everyone heard that last bit, just so you know.” Stiles notifies as he finishes his last worksheet.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I thought he would listen to me.”

“Not your fault.” At her slumped shoulders he adds “Here” as he slides a napkin with some of his bigger curly fries across the table. Allison smiles- oblivious to the significance- and takes one. “Thanks.”

Stiles smiles back and looks up to see Scott fuming by the doors, glaring at the fries. Stiles sighs and passively people watches only to catch sight of Boyd a minute later.

He has an idea.

 

*** 

 

Three days later, Stiles is feeling pretty good about himself. He may be fifty dollars lighter, but he’s confident it will be worth it. It’s enough to distract him from their new principal at least. This will be good for them. And that’s what he keeps telling himself until he meets Boyd outside the ice rink that night. Peter and Derek should be there as soon as they finish with the poor omega in the woods. It’s a shame they couldn’t get there in time. Peter said they might have been able to help him. 

Stiles shakes off the dismal thoughts at the questioning look Boyd is giving him. This is about letting go of the building stress, not dwelling on things he can’t change. He’s surprised to see Erica inside, curled in on herself by the bleachers. Stiles attempts a smile he hopes looks welcoming. “So I take it you two are sticking around?”

“You wouldn’t tell me who your friends were.” Boyd replies, making his way to Erica. “And I thought Erica would like to learn how to skate.”

Stiles’ smile feels much more natural when he says “Awesome. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

Boyd just hums and leads Erica to the far side of the rink.

Knowing Boyd doesn’t like him doesn’t make the blatant brush-off any less surprising. But it’s whatever. Let Boyd be annoyed by Stiles’ existence. 

It’s then that Peter and Derek arrive. Just by looking at them, you wouldn’t think they were throwing a body down a ravine but Stiles can smell the beginnings of rot clinging to them. Still, he relaxes and goes to them. Running a hand down Derek’s forearm before cupping the side of Peter’s neck for a second. Peter wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders as they face the rink. Stiles frowns at the lack of Derek but then he catches the confused frown Erica is giving them as Boyd ties skates onto her. 

He may have forgotten they were there for a second. “So, Boyd’s the one who got us into this place and I guess he decided to join us. That’s Erica. She’s a classmate of ours and friends with Boyd I guess. I don’t really know her that well and I only really knew of Boyd until recently.”

“I see. Well, I suppose this is a welcome reprieve from our constant training sessions. But don’t think we won’t be right back in that clearing tomorrow.”

“Yeah Yeah. I know, but no talk of that tonight. Tonight, we skate.”

“Why skating?” Derek asks, looking disdainfully at the ice.

“Why Derek? You got something against ice skating?” Stiles teases.

“He tried once, when he was five. Never returned.” Peter smirks, but it’s good natured and Derek simply scoffs and hits him upside the head. 

Stiles snickers through the pang of grief through the bond. “Well, let’s not just stand here.” He picks up the bag holding their skates he had set aside earlier and handed each of them their skates. Ten minutes later had Peter and Stiles gliding across the ice with relative ease. Derek seems to be struggling but he hasn’t fallen yet so he’s happy. Even if you’d have to know him to tell. 

Every now and again Stiles notices Erica staring at them, but she’s always paying close attention to Boyd whenever he turns his head. He cheers the first time Erica keeps her balance. After that, she seems just a little more confident in her strides, even if they are glacially slow. 

Stiles attempts to glide backwards by her and Derek, but trips and all three of them fall into one big pile, groaning with various levels of pain.

Boyd rushes over, helping Erica up and leading her to the bleachers before Stiles could apologize. Peter hasn’t moved an inch, and Stiles glares at the mirth flooding their bond. Derek shakes his head and goes to join Erica and Boyd. 

Rising with a grunt, Stiles skates over to where Peter is still smirking at him. “Shut up. Skating backwards is hard.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Mmhm. Did you see Boyd glaring or was that just me?”

“Oh, I saw.”

“I mean; I know he doesn’t like me but still. That was hardly on purpose.”

“He does seem rather protective of her.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me. If anything, Erica deserves someone like that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Can’t you smell it? The medication she takes for her epilepsy has some side effects. And you know how high school is. Not to mention, she just had a pretty bad seizure today in gym. This must be his way of making her feel better.”

“I thought you didn’t know them.”

“I don’t. But I know of them. Enough to put two and two together. I might have reached out to her this year if you didn’t bite Scott.”

Peter simply hums and pulls Stiles with him around the rink. They skate in silence.

 

*** 

 

Boyd had just locked the door when Derek smelled gunpowder. He pulls Erica and Boyd down just in time for a bullet to hit the wall where he’d been standing. Peter and Stiles had already left. Derek was supposed to give Erica a ride before returning home himself. But that just leaves him alone with two humans who don’t even know what he is.

Erica screams and Boyd is unnaturally still. Panic starts to clog up his senses as he drags them to his car, heads down all the way. He manages to get them huddled into the backseat before Erica cries out. “What the fuck is going on?” 

“Who the hell are those guys?!” Boyd adds.

Derek doesn’t answer until they’re speeding down 51 towards…towards somewhere. “I can only say that they don’t care about you.”

“That doesn’t exactly make us feel any better.” Erica snaps. 

“yeah, who the hell are you anyway?”

“I told you. I’m Derek.”

Derek can feel their twin glares without even looking in the mirror. “I’m Derek Hale.”

“As in my family is all dead Derek Hale?” Erica asks.

Derek grits his teeth. “yes, that one.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, is there anywhere I can drop you off that isn’t your house.”

“I thought they didn’t care about us?”

“Do you want them to follow me to your house?”

“No.”

“Alright then.”

“I know someone that can keep us overnight.”

“Us?” Derek asks, eyebrow raised.

“Do you want them to follow you to where you live?” Boyd parrots back.

Derek huffs. “Who?”

“A friend, just go here.” Boyd says, giving Derek an address.

They make it to a humble- but clearly expensive- house on the nicer side of town without further incident. Boyd and Erica don’t hesitate to run to the door. By the time Derek makes his way there- having kept a sharp everything out in case they were followed- the door was opened to reveal Stiles’ chemistry partner. Because of course it is. 

Erica’s rushed explanation dimmed the smirk he was giving Derek but he knew it wasn’t over. He’s going to kill Stiles all over again for this. 

 

*** 

 

Apparently his name is Danny and there is nobody else home to tell him not to let two of his classmates and a former fugitive stay over without suggesting they go to the police. Derek’s grateful, but that doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to this impromptu sleepover. Especially considering why they’re having it. He makes sure to send something reassuring through the pack bond before facing three very curious teenagers. 

Evidently, Erica had pushed all the explaining to Derek, which…fair. Derek sighs as he tries to find a way to appease them without actually telling them anything. “The people who attacked us are from a family that’s had it out for my family for generations.”

“What; so, like a blood feud?” Danny asks, incredulous from where he’s sprawled in an armchair. 

“Who has those anymore?” Erica snickers.

Boyd simple looks at him expectantly.

“I don’t know. They’re fanatics and insane.”

“Ohmygod!” Erica exclaims “Does this have anything to do with- “

Derek glares her into silence. “you’re not very sensitive; are you?

“Not really.”

“So by family, you mean the Argents.” Danny states.

“Yes.”

“Is Allison a mafia princess?!” Erica squeaks.

“No.” Derek growls, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Can we not force me to drag you all into this mess. Or are your lives really that boring?”

Erica looks ready to open her mouth again but Boyd quiets her with a hand on her shoulder. She frowns but lets it go. Danny stands up and claps his hands decisively. “We’ve got guest rooms and I should show you to them. Let’s go.”

It took a long time for Derek to fall asleep.

 

*** 

 

“So what are you doing in the woods every day?” Erica asks, apropos of fucking nothing. Her and Boyd make themselves at home on either side of him, effectively caging him in. Allison is still in line and Scott wouldn’t help anyway. Stiles could either ignore them until lunch ends or try to bullshit his way through their interrogation. He knows neither will work; Erica is surprisingly persistent.

“Are you stalking me now?”

“Answer the question.”

“None of your business.”

“You see; I tend to make things my business when those things try to shoot me. Talk.”

“You would think that would be the thing to make you run away screaming.”

“Been there done that. What’s really going on because Derek is a shit communicator.”

“Or he knew it wasn’t his right to just give out information like that.”

“oooh, so it is a matter of rank then. Alright boss; who does have this right. Is it you?”

Stiles looks her dead in the eye and stuffs his face full of chicken nuggets.

“Peter then. That would make more sense. So what’s the son of the sheriff doing hanging out in the woods with the local mob?”

Stiles nearly chokes. “I’m not with the fucking mob, Jesus Erica!”

“Then what are you with? Because blood feuds aren’t exactly common nowadays.” Boyd pipes up, making Stiles jump. He had forgotten he was there.

“Is that why you and Scott broke up?”

Stiles is going to get whiplash; he swears to god. “Broke up?”

“You two weren’t exactly subtle.” Boyd answers.

“More like Scott isn’t very subtle. Everyone thinks you’re sulking because he got invited to the “cool kid” table and got a big head. But they fail to realize that he’s the one glaring at you.”

“I’ve heard that Allison and you fell in love and that’s what that fight they had was about.” Boyd oh-so-helpfully informs.

“I heard he got himself addicted to steroids and that’s what Allison was trying to help him with.” Erica adds.

“Scott- wait no. I’m not telling you anything. You are not getting involved.”

Erica grins like she’s won something and Stiles does not like the fact that he feels like she did, even if he doesn’t know what.

The dread pooling in his stomach only doubled at the sight of Gerard Argent scanning the cafeteria. Quickly, Stiles averts his eyes before he can notice. Boyd raises an eyebrow at that and looks to where Gerard was. “Don’t want the principal noticing you?”

“No, I do not want Principal Argent knowing I exist.”

“You’re afraid.” Erica observes in awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you properly afraid before.”

“His reputation precedes him. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Erica hums and takes a bite of her sandwich. 

 

*** 

 

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me.” Erica says, looking back to where Boyd is focusing on not tripping over anything.

“I’m not going to let you wander the woods on your own.”

“I’m not wandering. I’m tracking. I’m a great hunter; you’ll see.”

“Stiles has caught you three times already and you were barely five minutes in each time. You’re tracking the chip I put in his phone this morning. It might as well be a GPS.”

“Where did you get this anyway?”

“Danny’s a friend of mine. And he wants to know what’s up with Stiles too.”

“How do you know Danny anyway?”

Boyd goes silent and Erica remembers that he’s got an older sister who went missing a few years ago.

“He helps me.”

“I’ve always wondered why Danny is Jackson’s best friend.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah. He is.” Erica smiles, mood successfully lightened.

Suddenly, Boyd grabs her arm and pulls her back just in time for something to fall through the trees and land right where she’d been standing. Wait- not something. Someone. 

“Ohmygod, Stiles!” Erica exclaims. Only it’s not exactly Stiles. His face is all twisted and his eyes are glowing. He barely seems to register them before a man with a crossbow shows up, aiming at Stiles’ heart with the manic delight of a sadist. 

Boyd is pushing her behind him but that doesn’t stop her from seeing the hulking beast tear into the clearing and ram right into the man. There are snarls and growls followed by a grunt. Erica creeps around Boyd’s arm and sees the monster pinning the man down, weaponless and unconscious. And then Stiles is reaching for it and she tries to hiss at him to “Just leave it alone” as Boyd starts backing them away. 

But then Stiles is touching its shoulder, trailing his hand down to those claws and looking it straight in the eye and Erica is terrified because shouldn’t you never look a predator in the eye? And there is no doubt this beast is a predator. 

“Shh shh It’s okay. I’m okay. We can’t give them a reason Peter. He can’t hurt me like this. It’s okay. Just step back. You destroyed his weapon. It’s okay.” Stiles repeats over and over as he runs both his hands over its fur and its muzzle and its claws, never once showing any sign of fear.  
Erica gapes at him. But then the beast is actually stepping back. Its breaths even from the frantic huffing they had been. Stiles is smiling and then the beast starts shrinking. As if this wasn’t surreal enough, the beast’s fur is receding and the bones visibly realigning. Erica kind of wants to gag a little but she’s too busy being rooted to the spot in morbid fascination. Stiles, having already changed back, pulls Peter- and yes, that is Peter- into a bone-crushing hug. One that Peter returns almost desperately. 

A very naked Peter. Erica squeaks in embarrassment and two pairs of eyes lock onto her. 

Stiles just sighs. “Goddammit guys.”

“It seems we’ve got some explaining to do after all.” Peter hums, doing nothing to shield his nudity. 

“He’s just knocked out.” Stiles responds to Boyd’s side-eye at the man. 

“He was bait.” Derek growls, showing up out of nowhere. Erica jumps, focus shifting to Derek who is now sneering down over the man. 

“What do you mean?”

“He means they wanted me to kill him. If I killed one of theirs first, their precious code would allow them to slaughter us.” Peter answers, disgust leaking into every syllable.

“That’s horrible!”

“No kidding.” Stiles deadpans. 

“That’s nice. Now how about that explanation.” Boyd demands.

“Yeah, what even are you guys?” And there’s Erica’s curiosity surging back with a vengeance. 

Both Stiles and Derek look to Peter as if for permission. At his nod, Stiles turns to them and says “I suppose we should start with werewolves.”

 

*** 

 

Somehow, Erica getting the answers she wanted led to all of them gathered in Derek’s room, with Erica and Boyd sitting together on Stiles’ desk chairs, and Peter and Derek passive aggressively smothering the scents of fear and wolfsbane from Stiles with their own. Despite being given the gist of the past few months, Erica is definitely uncomfortable. That look is concerned and Stiles could really go with a little less of this from everyone. He appreciates it, honestly, but it gets old. “Oh for- yes, we are cuddling. Yes, they are grown men. And yes, I’m more than okay with it.”

“I’m just going to assume it’s a wolf thing.” Erica concludes, hitting her palm with her fist with a decisive nod.

Considering Peter is out for the count, having not left the curve of Stiles’ neck since they’d lain down, Derek says “Wolves are more reliant on touch than humans. What you see to be…” Derek makes a face. “wrong is simply comfort.”

“It’s a protective thing then.” Boyd says, not quite so tense as before. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Stiles answers, absentmindedly running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “But more importantly, how the hell did you manage to follow me that far out without me noticing you?”

A minute later has Stiles crying out “You tracked my phone!”

“They are friends with Danny.” Derek comments.

“And you would know that because…” Stiles teases.

“You know why.” Derek glares.

Stiles headbumps his shoulder with a goofy grin and Derek, reluctantly, softens. Rolling his eyes, Derek pulls him closer so that Stiles is leaning back with his head on his shoulder and Peter has to scoot the few inches to regain his position.

Erica looks ready to ask but Derek promptly glares her into silence. Stiles can tell from the look in her eye that she’ll be finding out at lunch tomorrow.

Everyone looks to the hallway as the front door slams shut. Derek is off the bed like a shot and Stiles works on rousing Peter out of his semi-feral state as Erica and Boyd put the chairs back into Stiles’ room. Derek is already preparing dinner downstairs and talking with the sheriff when Stiles arrives, an alert Peter in tow. Stiles ignores how his dad tenses at Peter’s arrival. Of course, he turns a quizzical eye to Stiles as Boyd and Erica make themselves known. 

“Friends from school. They’re staying for dinner.”

“We are?” Boyd asks in unison with John’s “They are?”

“Yes, you are.” Peter demands, much to the discomfort of the sheriff. He smirks and joins Derek in the kitchen, making sure to squeeze the back of Stiles’ neck before he goes. John grits his teeth and Stiles rolls his eyes as he leads the very confused Erica and Boyd to the living room. 

“Dad doesn’t exactly approve of my choice in alphas.” Stiles whispers as they settle on the couch.

“He knows?” Erica asks, taking claim to the remote and flipping it onto a Danny Phantom rerun. 

“Unfortunately.” Stiles answers, anger seeping into his eyes and his voice. But then Sam does something badass on TV and it’s like it never happened. Unsettled, Erica doesn’t ask. Even if she is desperate to know. Instead, she turns her attention to the show until Derek is calling them to dinner. 

 

*** 

 

They’re in the clearing again. And again, Stiles is being taught how to defend himself. Only this time, Peter isn’t staying on the sidelines and they have an audience. Peter didn’t think the runes would allow it, but Erica and Boyd attend their training session every few days. He supposes, if the alpha allows their entry it might be okay. Or maybe he needs to look into the runes’ quality. It has been years and his blood only goes so far. The hunter is testament to that. At full power, no threat should have been inclined to stray that close. They should have been overlooked. 

Peter grits his teeth and dodges another attack. His beta truly is magnificent. He’s improving every day and loving it, even if he hates the reason they’re focusing so hard on self-defense.

Either way, Erica follows Stiles near every day to watch and Boyd tends to stick close to Erica. Peter can respect that. 

It’s after they are the only two left that she approaches him. Timid and frail in her demeanor but the hints of a spitfire that Peter admires. Nevertheless, she looks him in the eye when she asks about a werewolf’s healing abilities and Peter can see where this is going. Of course he knows where this is going. A blind man could. Her epilepsy has effectively crippled her. Destroyed her confidence before it could truly take root and has left her to the mercy of her peers. Teenager- hell- people are cruel and becoming a wolf could heal her. He hesitates to think ‘fix’ but it could solve a lot of her problems. A pack could solve even more. 

She’s fidgeting, stumbling over her words. Peter takes mercy on her and says “No.” He hurries to continue before she could descend even further into whatever is going through her head. “Not yet, not while there are so many hunters around and we can’t afford another new wolf. Stiles is an anomaly, I’ve seen few who take to the wolf so naturally and even fewer newly bitten. He hasn’t even seen his first moon yet and turning you prematurely would only court unnecessary risk for us all.” He takes a step as she does, keeping the distance between them but not lessening it. He makes sure she sees his sincerity when he says “You don’t need to be a wolf to stick around. To be here, to be pack if you’d like. Don’t worry about that and if you’d like to be a wolf after everything is taken care of, don’t be afraid to ask me. Alright?” 

Peter didn’t know what he was expecting, but for Erica to fling herself into his arms certainly wasn’t it. Her momentum forces him a step back, but he quickly regains his balance and holds onto her just as tightly. After a moment of consideration, he concludes that she knows what he is and breathes in her particular mix of conditioner and what makes her Erica while rubbing his right hand over her shoulder once, twice, three times before Erica pulls away.

“You’re a lecherous old man.” She laughs, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. 

Peter’s eyes fill with mirth and he puts on his best leer “For a pretty little thing like you? how could I resist?”

Erica giggles and swaps at the fingers that strayed to her cheek. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

There’s a dangerous glint in her eye that wasn’t there before- not without Boyd hovering nearby at least. Something he can only recognize because he’s spent so long in the mirror perfecting how best to hide it- and later to reveal it at his discretion. Something that promises harmless mischief to those who prove themselves friendly, but also incredible pain to those who prove themselves threats. 

Peter grins with far too many teeth “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much Boyd notes that I couldn't use in this chapter but I'm thinking of making a sort of Arc 2 type of thing. I know I haven't watched the show in years but I can't remember much of anything the show gave me by way of his personality and backstory. All I know is lonely kid with zamboni. Which means I never gained a heavy opinion of him and I can do whatever I want. Hahahaha. 
> 
>  
> 
> Am I the only one who can't wait for Erica and Scott to interact?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started this immediately after posting chapter 6 because we need some steter in this steter fic.

It had been a long day. With no school to cut into training, Peter had Stiles drilling until noon. During lunch, Peter made him practice formal etiquette. They all doubt it’ll be needed anytime soon, but nobody wants to risk it. Derek managed to get a half-hour break in after lunch but then it was right back to training. Stiles gets it. Really, he does. He needs to be able to keep going long after he’s run out of steam. He needs to be able to fight when exhausted as well as when prepared. 

 

But he’s still exhausted. And being a werewolf doesn’t make you immune to sore muscles. 

 

Groaning, he stumbles into his room with every intent on getting his homework done. Unsurprisingly, he ends up face down on his bed instead. And there goes any chance of him moving ever again. Not even the discomfort of wearing shoes in bed can get him to move. He doesn’t even twitch when Peter arrives, leaning against the doorway all smug because of course he is. Stiles doesn’t need the bond to just know. 

 

“I suppose I couldn’t get you to eat this grilled cheese that I prepared for you out of the kindness of my heart.” Peter says, not an ounce of remorse in his body.

 

“You are not kind.”

 

He’s answered with silence, followed by footsteps and a plate being set down nearby. Then two hand are dragging him up into a sitting position. Stiles remains limp and sags into Peter’s arms, ready to fall asleep just like this. Peter gives him a shake before bringing the sandwich to his lips. It had been cut into two triangles, because Peter is awesome like that. With a sigh, Stiles opens his mouth for a bite. Peter is lucky he’s getting this much participation; he is that tired. 

 

With a huff of laughter, Peter obliges. The next twenty minutes is filled with the crunch of toasted bread as Peter handfeeds him until there is nothing left but crumbs and an empty glass of water. Stuffed full, Stiles is even more drowsy than before and doesn’t resist when Peter sets him back down on his stomach. Stiles feels the bed shift as Peter removes both his shoes and his jeans, leaving him in his T-shirt and boxers. Stiles expects him to simply remove his own shoes and join him but he doesn’t. He does take off his shoes. And he does join him. But he doesn’t lay beside him and hold him close while they sleep.

 

Instead, he straddles his lower back and leans forward with his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “Let me take care of you.”

 

Stiles grunts. If it’s Peter, then it’ll be fine. 

 

Peter takes the affirmation for what it is and kneads the ball of his hands into Stiles’ shoulders. He continues to massage down each of his arms and up again. Following a path only known by him down his back and up again. Stiles groans as he melts into the sheets. Peter had been holding out on him, the bastard.

 

He doesn’t stray. This isn’t sexual. Stiles doesn’t feel so much as his alpha’s eyes anywhere inappropriate. He goes straight from his tailbone to his thighs and continues down to his ankles. He spends what feels like hours anywhere where Stiles hisses in sensitivity. Effectively turning every muscle he knew of – and a few he didn’t- into mush. 

 

Suddenly, Peter moves from where he’d been rubbing circles into his ankle to the nape of his neck and that sent shivers right down his spine. Peter continues around to Stiles’ jugular, lightly pressing down and Stiles is officially incoherent from his alpha's attention. 

His alpha runs his nose through his steadily growing hair and fits his fangs neatly at the nape of his neck. Stiles would cry out if he had the capacity. Instead, he is left a drooling mess on the verge of passing out. 

 

It is then that Peter finally backs away. He turns his beta to his side and wipes away the drop of drool starting to form. Pleased, he settles them under the blankets and they sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need more innocent massage scenes n this fandom. Comment if you agree.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even care if the spacing is scewy. I'm tired. My phone is dying. And my copy and paste is being a bitch. Here's a chapter.

The windows shake as the ethereal scream echoes throughout the hospital, overpowering the endless beep of the flat line two doors down. Jackson, along with everyone else unfortunate enough to be so close, presses against his ears in a futile attempt to lessen the pain. Five seconds. Five tortuous seconds later had the hall blissfully quiet. Jackson looks up to see none other than Lydia Martin sitting up, eyes wide, and pale as a ghost. 

 

*** 

 

The news spread like wildfire. By the next day the whole school had been buzzing about the weird scream from nowhere. The more accepted rumor was the return of their queen.

 

Lydia Martin is awake.

 

 

*** 

 

Jackson goes running to Scott because he needs answers and Scott is the only one he can find. Scott is clueless, to Jackson’s utter surprise.

 

No really, he’s shocked.

 

“Well, if you can’t tell me, get the alpha. It’s about time we met.”

 

“Jackson you don’t understand- “

 

“What I understand is Lydia got bit, didn’t turn, and I’m still owed.”

 

“Stop.” Lydia scorns Jackson, having heard them squabbling from her room. She steps out into the hall, seemingly perfect even in her hospital gown. “Scott, you’re going to tell us everything.”

 

So they follow her into her hospital room like the dutiful puppies they are and Scott tells them.

 

*** 

 

“This is bullshit.”

 

Jackson- “Lydia warns.

 

“No.” Jackson declares. He stops his pacing to face Scott. “Stilinski is a lot of things, but an idiot isn’t one of them. There’s no way he would tell me to fuck off near every day and then turn right around and swoon for some guy he’s just met. If you won’t tell me where to find the alpha, I’ll just find him myself. Maybe get some damn answers.” 

 

Jackson shoves his way past Scott towards the door, ignoring Lydia’s “Don’t you dare.” And Scott’s “You’re not listening.”

 

If Stilinski is a werewolf now, then Jackson would bet anything he knows where the alpha is.

 

 

*** 

 

 

It’s eight O-clock by the time the sheriff leaves for his shift and Jackson starts pounding on Stilinski’s door. He wasn’t expecting Derek Hale to answer. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” They both ask in unison, matching looks of detestation blatant.

 

“I live here. What’s your excuse?” Derek raises an eyebrow. 

 

Jackson laughs. “Of course you do. Well, whatever. Where’s Stilinski?”

Derek’s eyebrows say “And?”

 

“Is Stilinski here?”

 

Derek sighs “What do you want?” He continues before Jackson can throw a fit. “What do you want with Stiles?”

 

Jackson replies “I need to see the alpha.”

 

Derek stiffens “Why would Stiles be able to help you with that?”

 

“Maybe because he’s the alpha’s now?”

 

Jackson barely finishes before he’s being dragged inside and pinned to the closed door. 

 

“And how would you know that?” Derek lets some of his wolf out, his claws poking Jackson’s neck and his eyes glow. 

 

Jackson grunts but stills “You really think this was my first call?”

 

“Scott.” Derek growls.

 

“And he’s not just a pretty face. Would you let me down.”

 

Derek drops him and makes his way to the living room. Jackson, as expected, follows him and is promptly shoved onto the couch. 

 

“He won’t bite you, if that’s what you’re after.”

 

“Just tell me where he is, if you’re so smart.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes and leaves, calling out behind him “Wait and he’ll be back. Don’t touch anything.”

 

Jackson sighs in irritation but relents. After a minute he takes out his phone and plays Tetris. 

 

 

*** 

 

 

It’s eight O-clock when Allison packs the last Walmart bag into her trunk. It’s eight O-clock when she sees a shadow move and she swings her knife back in record time. It’s eight O-clock when Peter Hale grunts in familiar pain and pulls it out from between his ribs. 

 

Allison snatches the knife back and glares “Are you an idiot or do you get off on this?”

 

Peter grins “How lovely to see you again, princess. How’s the family?”

 

Allison grits her teeth at the nickname but answers “Nothing new. Gerard is still expecting to find his lackey in pieces but he’s growing more doubtful every day.”

 

“I hardly think that was worth seeing me directly. You could have just told Stiles.”

 

“It’s not. I thought you’d like to know that Lydia-your bitten- woke up last night. Stiles may have told you about the rumors of a scream? That was her and we don’t know why.” Allison looks at him expectantly.

 

Peter hums like he was expecting this “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. I imagine my bite triggered her own dormant heritage. Tell her to contact me and I’ll see if we can’t help her.” 

 

“You know something.”

 

Peter smiles “Yes.”

 

“Why are you keeping it from me?” Allison asks, honestly confused.

 

“I’m not in the habit of telling hunters other people’s species. I’m not rude.”

 

Allison looks doubtful of that last bit but she nods in understanding. “I’ll tell her. But I can’t promise she’ll listen. I saw her talking to Scott this morning. Plus, there’s the fact that you assaulted her.”

 

“Yes, there is that. I mean no harm to her, if that makes anything easier.”

 

“I’ll tell her.” Allison gives him one last glance before closing the trunk and driving home.

 

 

*** 

 

 

“She won’t meet you, if she’s been talking to Scott.” Stiles announces, stepping out from behind the neighboring car as Allison turns the corner. 

 

“No point in ignoring her though.”

 

“I suppose.” Stiles sighs. 

 

“Why, darling. I thought you liked this girl. Why so reluctant?”

 

“I’m not sure I ever did. And besides, she could use us. Find out what she needs to know then tell all our secrets” Stiles leans into Peter’s side, relishing in the arm slung around his shoulders. 

 

“What reason would she have to do something like that? And how careless do you think me?”

 

“I don’t think little of you, but she is perceptive and she will pick up on details we do not share. She is cold and you wronged her.”

 

“She has been talking to Scott. Perhaps you should be the one to approach her then. You know her far better than I do and anything I say in regards to your well-being will automatically become irrelevant.”

 

Stiles smiles into Peter’s shoulder “We can’t leave her defenseless so I’ll talk to her. See if we can’t gain her indifference if nothing else.”

 

Peter smiles down in turn “What is with the smiles, darling? Not that I’m complaining.”

 

“It’s nothing. Just nice that you trust me, is all.”

 

Peter leans down and kisses Stiles’ forehead before leading him to his car. It isn’t until they are both seated that he says “What kind of pack would I be leading if I couldn’t trust my own second?”

 

Something warm passes through their bond at the praise and they sit in comfortable silence. 

 

 

***   
 

 

 Stiles took one look at Jackson before throwing his hands up and going to bed “Nope no and no, not dealing. Peter, you do it.”

 

Peter watches him leave, laughter shining in his eyes. With an amused huff, he faces the boy. He puts on his smarmiest grin and states “Jackson, right?” 

 

“You the alpha?”

 

Before Peter could ask he hears Derek from upstairs tell him “Scott told him Stiles got bit.”

 

Stiles concludes with “He’s Lydia’s boyfriend.”

 

Much to Jackson’s confusion, Peter goes “ah” in understanding. 

 

Peter continues “You must be here for Lydia.”

 

Irritated, Jackson answers “Yes. What is she?”

 

“Demanding little thing; aren’t you? Stiles will be reaching out to her. Anything else, or are you leaving?” Peter says with no small amount of implication as to the correct answer.

 

Jackson smirks like he’s won something and demands “I want the bite.”

 

Peter simply raises his eyebrows because really? That’s how he’s going to do this? 

 

“And I suppose you expect me to do something about that?”

 

“Yes.” Jackson even had the gall to take off his jacket.

 

A very summative “Wow” is heard from Stiles’ bedroom. Peter smirks in agreement. “You’re rather confident.”

 

“Well, it’s either this or I go blabbing. So I’d really suggest you get on with it.”

 

At that Peter stills. His smirk disappears and in its place, a grim line that perfectly matches his tone when he warns “I wouldn’t test me if I were you.”

 

Jackson, oblivious in his arrogance, simply scoffs “What are you going to do? Kill me? We both know you can’t afford that kind of attention after the spree you went on.”

 

Faster that Jackson could comprehend, Peter is mere inches from him with his claws wrapped around his neck, just a thought from breaking skin. Enunciating clearly, Peter warns “Do not test me.”

 

Jackson gulps but doesn’t waver, jutting his chin like he ever had the upper hand “I’ll tell them if you don’t. About you. About Derek and Scott. I’ll tell them about St- “

 

He never got the chance to finish. Jackson gasps as Peter’s claws embed themselves into the nape of his neck and dig through his memories. “I should take everything.” Peter whispers, like they are the only two in the world. “I should leave you a sniffling infant, but I won’t. We really can’t afford the attention.” With that he drops Jackson- who buckles immediately into the fetal position- disdainfully wiping his claws clean with the handkerchief he keeps on his person for such occasions.

 

He was about to call out for Derek when he noticed he had already made his way downstairs. Peter meets him halfway, accepts Derek’s nod, and leaves him to take care of it. Making sure to slide a hand over Derek’s shoulder as he passes, Peter makes his way to what is quickly becoming his and Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles is already at the door when he arrives, holding his hand out expectantly. It takes a moment for Peter to realize he wants the bloody handkerchief and promptly hands it over. Stiles gives him a small smile and kisses him on the cheek as he heads to the laundry room. 

   
The next morning, Jackson was discovered. Turns out, he got into a car crash on his way to school and suffered amnesia from his head trauma. That last two years are completely blank and he needs to go to a special school out of state.

 

Lydia’s glare is like ice.

 

 

*** 

   
 

“So werewolves can just take memories?” Erica asks at lunch the next day. The entire school can’t seem to decide which half of their power couple is more interesting these days. Nobody remembers the scream. 

 

   
“I guess.” Stiles answers. “But only alphas and they have to dig their claws into the back of your neck. Peter says it requires extreme precision and there is always the risk of taking everything. It’s why it’s not used all the time.”

 

At Erica’s alarm, Stiles assures “Hey, if you ever see puncture marks on the nape of your neck come to me alright? I’ll do what I can to help you.” 

 

Erica lets out a sigh of relief and nods. She takes his hand and rests her head on his shoulder. Stiles simply kisses the top of her head and returns to his pre-Cal.

 

“You too Boyd.” Stiles says before he can forget. “Check for marks every morning, while you’re at it.”

 

Boyd nods and Erica squeezes Stiles’ hand.

 

 

*** 

 

 

Stiles was shocked, to say the least, when Lydia cornered him after school. He had only just started his jeep when she sat herself down in the passenger seat with a brisk “You’re driving me home.”

 

Stiles knew better than to argue so he drove her home in tense silence. 

 

He parks outsides her house. She steps out and demands “Inside.”

 

Again, he obeys.

 

Only to come to an abrupt halt just outside the entryway. Lydia whirls around and freezes him with her glare “Scott’s an idiot.”

 

Stiles gives out a sigh of relief. He was afraid Lydia wouldn’t figure it out.

 

“You weren’t brainwashed into this.”

 

Stiles smiles and agrees “Of course not.”

 

“You knowingly betrayed him.”

 

“What?” Stiles’ mood plummets. 

 

“I’m not blinded like Scott is. You took the bite for your own greed and tossed your “brother” aside as if he were nothing. You disregarded all the murders so that you could have some psychotic werewolf fawning over you and even managed to drag Allison down with you. Not to mention the ones who sit with you every day at lunch. I’m appalled, truly, that you would-what? - seduce Erica and then lure Boyd with empty promises? What did you tell him? That you’d find his sister? Because that is disgusting. Scott refuses to accept the truth but I see you Stiles. And don’t even think about bringing me to your alpha. I know Jackson went to you and if you think for one second I believe he suffered from a car accident then you are truly idiotic.” Lydia is practically spitting hellfire by the end and all Stiles can think to say is a dumbfounded “What?”

 

Enraged, Lydia grabs hold of Stiles’ collar and drags him back out the door. Next thing he knows, the door is slamming shut and he’s left, alone, trying to process what just happened.

 

He drives home in a daze. He doesn’t even realize he’s parked until Derek is suddenly there, taking his hand and leading him inside. His dad is there, in the living room, watching TV. He stands up at the sight of him “What happened? You look like you saw a ghost.” He observes. Stiles looks to Derek and says “She thinks I’m power-hungry and that I’ve thrown Scott under the bus to get Peter on a leash.”

 

“What?” Derek and his dad ask in unison. One no less confused than the other. 

 

Stiles laughs, but it isn’t a happy sound “Yeah, Lydia actually said that I seduced Erica too. At least she thinks I’m capable of seducing someone.”

 

“Oh, I’m certain you’re capable, darling. But how could she come to such conclusions?” Peter asks, having just returned through the back door. 

 

Stiles notices Peter smirk as his dad’s hand hovers over where his gun would rest. He ignores it in favor of answering Peter “I don’t know. I guess she took what Scott told her and made her own conclusions. The only thing she got right was that Scott has blinded himself. She just thinks it’s out of grief and not his own selfishness.” 

 

“I doubt she’ll be accepting our help then?” Peter concludes.

 

Stiles laughs, feeling much more genuine than the last “Hell no. She was very clear on that during her crucifixion.”

 

Peter shrugs “Her loss then. It isn’t of any consequence to us."  
 

 

“Should I call Allison then? Tell her the news.”

 

“I don’t see why not.” Peter concedes, heading upstairs. 

 

Stiles’ dad waits until the sound of rushing water is heard from the bathroom to ask Stiles “So, you’re okay then?”

 

“Hmm? Oh…Yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit shocked is all.”

 

His dad simply says “Right…alright then.” And flees from the tense atmosphere. Stiles doesn’t pay attention to where he goes. 

 

“You’re not like that.” Derek comforts.

 

“Not what?” Stiles asks, feigning confusion.

 

“You’re not power-hungry.”

 

“I know.” Stiles assures, shaking off any lingering doubts. “She never knew me to begin with.”

 

Derek nods awkwardly and decides Fuck it and pulls Stiles into his arms and scents him. He doesn’t let him go until Stiles concedes and melts into the embrace. 

 

“You’re the farthest thing from selfish I’ve ever known.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

*** 

 

 

“Do you really think they’ll work?” Lydia asks, holding a little grey pill in contemplation.

 

“Deaton swears this will do the trick.” Scott assures.

 

“Hmm…Alright. I’ll take care of it.”

 

Lydia takes to case of pills and leaves the little clinic. She’s got a job to do.

 

 

*** 

 

 

It’s late by the time Stiles curls up with Peter for bed. Instead of setting Stiles as the little spoon, however, Peter takes hold of his wrist and tugs him into position, straddling his waist. Stiles looks down in confusion but Peter is quick to calm him. 

 

“What’s this about?” Stiles asks, head tilted like a confused pup. It makes something in Peter warm and it resonates between them. Stiles gets this blissful look on his face at the flood of affection and Peter never wants that look to fade.

 

“I’ll never leave you, you know that right?”

 

“Yeah…” Stiles drones. 

 

“I will never leave you. Not even death himself could take me. Do you understand?”

 

“Peter, what is this about?”

 

“Just…just tell me you understand.”

 

Stiles lets it go with a heavy sigh and leans down until he’s laying overtop of Peter, head pillowed in the crook of his neck. “You will never leave me. Not even death could steal you.”

Peter goes boneless at the words. “That’s right. Never forget that.”

 

He wraps his arms around his boy like he never wants to let go and they sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I figured out what I was going to do with those two.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. I did some research and i've concluded that Danny has the smartest sense of self preservation in the entire show. And yes, I'm counting Peter in that.

Stiles wakes with a groan. He buries his head back into Peter’s neck and stretches before flopping his weight back onto Peter. Peter hums and sends amusement through the bond but his touch is fond when he runs his fingers through Stiles’ ever-growing hair repeatedly. Stiles would purr if he could. As it is, he relaxes into the gentle petting and lets Peter have his way. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but evidently it was too long.

They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t notice Stiles’ dad until he was dragging Stiles out of bed by his arm. Stiles yelps and Peter growls before he can stop himself. Stiles’ dad is having none of it. Spitting accusations left and right in his rage, he drags Stiles behind him to better shield him from the assumed danger. 

They were always so careful. Peter always out the window before this could happen. It’s not like they were even doing anything wrong. They were literally just sleeping. But try telling the sheriff that; he already thinks Peter a predator.

Eventually, Stiles has had it with his dad’s assumptions and Peter’s snide remarks.

“Shut up!” Stiles yells. “Peter, I’m talking to you too.” He glares.

Peter’s smirk drops.

“Dad, you can’t go accusing Peter of things just because you don’t like him. If you ever spent any time with us or even just him then you might have some evidence to back you up but as it is, you’re just seeing what you want to see. Peter, dad might have gained a higher opinion of you if you ever stopped goading him on. You’re not helping with all the damn taunting.” Stiles rips his arm from his dad’s hold. “I’ll be back when you both grow up a little.” With that, he storms off, telling a very startled Derek “I’m going to the clearing.” as he passes him at the back door. He doesn’t waste any time shifting and breaking into a run. He’ll return around lunch, he decides. Give everyone some time to cool down. 

 

*** 

 

This was such a bad idea, Stiles thinks as he runs blindly from his attacker. His head hurts. There is blood in his eyes as well as running down his side from the huge gash there. Thank god there wasn’t any wolfsbane on the blade. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been running. Just that he feels ready to drop any moment. He doesn’t even know if he’s still being chased but he already made one bad decision for the day and he’d really like to not overfill his quota by stopping. 

Someone runs into him and knocks him down. Or maybe Stiles ran into them. Regardless, Stiles is desperately trying to shuffle away. Did he forget to mention his ankle is twisted? Because it hurts like a bitch. 

“Hey- Stiles!” the person exclaims. A very familiar person with a very familiar voice. 

“Danny?” Stiles mumbles, turning to face him but then he is suddenly very very tired. “No…no p’lice.”

“What? Stiles, are you okay? What’s going on?”

“N’ p’lice. N’ ho’pit’l. N’ p’l’ce.”

He passes out.

“Stiles!” Danny tries shaking him awake, but to no avail. He’s ready to call 911 anyway when he sees a scrape on his cheek heal. Heal! Just like that. It was like the wound reversed itself. Danny didn’t know what was going on with Stiles, but he knew his house was barely a block away. 

Quickly, Danny lifts Stiles into a bridal carry and hides him away into his house. He doesn’t let him down until he’s got Stiles safely tucked away in his bed. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles wakes to soft cushions and a killer headache. He groans and sits up, only to panic at the unfamiliar surroundings. He remembers the fight and the hunter- his breath seizes- he remembers running and then…and then. 

And then Danny was there. 

He takes a closer look around and notices a picture of the team on the dresser and a pile of laundry on a chair, or more specifically, Danny’s lacrosse gear on top of the pile of laundry on the chair. His breathing slows down as he takes in all the little personalizations that make it easy to put two and two together. 

Danny must have taken him here after he passed out. Danny must have decided to bring him to his home…after he passed out from blood loss.

Danny walks in with a box of Chips Ahoy! Cookies and some milk. They both freeze and Stiles says “You didn’t call an ambulance.”

“You told me not to.”

“Still…”

Danny laughs in disbelief and sets the food on the nightstand before sitting down on a desk chair next to the bed. “I saw you heal.”

Stiles froze. Of course he did. The lack of holes in his kidney is a bit hard to miss. On instinct, Stiles feels for the injury and- yep- smooth skin for miles. Danny sees this and wastes no time in shoving the milk into Stiles’ face until he takes it for himself. 

“For the blood loss.”

Stiles nods and chugs it down. He’s got the cookies in his lap in no time. They’re the chewy ones. Stiles hums in approval. “Thanks.” He mumbles through a cookie. 

“No problem. Except, what the fuck is going on?” Danny runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “Jackson’s gone, Lydia is glaring daggers at you, suddenly you and Scott are broken up, Allison is fighting with him, Lydia’s giving Allison the cold shoulder, and Erica is hanging all over you but I could’ve sworn you didn’t even know each other. Not to mention, Boyd is there too and he hates you.”

Stiles can’t believe he never thought of how this all affected Danny. “I’m sorry.”

“For what though? Please, at least tell me why you won’t tell me.” Danny looks so earnest. So defeated that Stiles just deflates. He doesn’t want to lie to Danny. Danny, who has helped them time and again without ever being told why. Without ever really getting anything in return. A minute ogling Derek doesn’t count. Not really.

“It’s not just my secret to tell.”

“It’s the Hales then? They really are the mob? Or the Argent’s at least. But that doesn’t explain your wounds. Is it drugs?” 

God, Stiles thinks, Danny looks so ready to just up and punch something. Possibly the “drugs”.

“I assure you, Beacon Hills doesn’t even have a mob. And, to my knowledge, the worst drug problem we have is weed.”

Danny looks so lost but he nods as if he believes Stiles. Like Stiles’ word is worth something to him. Which…What? Danny doesn’t even like him.

“You don’t even like me. Why do you look ready to fight for me?”

Danny huffs indignantly “I’m offended that you think I have to like someone personally to not want them caught up in the mob. But seriously, you just kind of irritated me because the few times you talked to me it was always when I was busy. Plus, for the longest time me and Boyd thought you were homophobic.”

“What! When did I ever- “

“Relax.” Danny laughs. “It was mostly Boyd anyway.”

“Still…”

“We thought you were mocking me whenever you’d ask about my sexuality. It’s hard to tell sometimes with you. Then Boyd came to me, talking about how you had a boyfriend and we both had this “ohh” moment.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t actually do anything wrong.”

“I know. But I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They trail off into an easy silence filled only by the crinkling of the cookie box. Nearly half the cookies are gone by the time Stiles’ head shoots up and he says “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Danny swallows his own cookie and replies “Really? Boyd said you were with some older guy. He also said he was an asshole, but an asshole that cared about you.”

Stiles groans, sliding a hand down his face. “Did this guy wear a leather jacket?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought. Peter and I aren’t dating.”

“Boyd sure seems convinced. He complains about how you two are disturbingly cute together.”

“That’s…huh. Wait. I just realized.” Stiles grins deviously. “How did you and Boyd become friends. He won’t tell me no matter what I do.”

“If he won’t tell you, what makes you think I will?”

“Ahhh, come on.” Stiles whines. “Pleeeeease. Tellll meeee. I’d assume you were dating but you brought your boyfriend to the dance so I’ve got nothing and it’s been driving me insane.”

Danny gets a pained look on his face at the mention of his boyfriend. “I help him.”

Stiles makes a dramatic huff but lets it go. He flops back on the bed before jumping up, good as new. “Welp. Thanks for all the help but I really need to get home before someone thinks I’m dead.” Stiles makes his way to the door, scratching of some stray blood from his cheek, before Danny is keeping him in place by the elbow. 

“You’ll ask. Won’t you?”

Stiles looks long and hard into Danny’s eyes in contemplation.

Fuck it.

“Yeah.”

Danny doesn’t stop him from leaving.

 

*** 

 

Stiles barely makes it through the door before he’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug by his dad. Stiles returns the hug just as desperately and meets eyes with his very frantic alpha. Somehow, he manages to detach himself from his dad’s grip and carefully walks over to where Peter is glaring bloody murder at the bloody tears in his shirt. 

“I’m okay. It’s okay.” Stiles whispers. When he’s only inches away from Peter, he takes clawed hands in his and brings them to his side. Peter crowds in close as he proves to himself that any injury has long since healed. He runs his nose down Stiles’ cheek and buries himself in Stiles’ neck. Stiles stands there, caged in by his alpha’s arms with his neck bared. He allows Peter to hear his heart beat and feel the smooth expanse of healthy skin. He allows Peter to smell the faded panic and the present calm. 

“I’m okay” he says to the rest of the room. Stiles turns so that Peter is clinging to him from behind and he can see the pained but resigned look on his dad’s face. Derek is walking towards them so that he can get his own pat down. Even Erica and Boyd are here, as relieved as everyone else. 

“What happened?” his dad asks.

“You were terrified. We couldn’t find you.” Derek murmurs into his ear from where he’s attacked himself to Stiles’ side.

“You couldn’t follow my scent?”

“Gone.” Peter mumbles as he tightens his hold around Stiles’ torso.

At Stiles’ questioning look, Derek explains “We managed to get to the edge of the preserve before your scent just vanished. Peter punched a hole in a tree.”

Stiles laughs at the imagery but sobers quickly. “How could my scent just vanish?”

“Peter said something about magic before you came in.” his dad says.

“He thought the hunters got a witch to kidnap you.” Derek says, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair once.

“I was attacked by a hunter. Never even made it to our clearing. He got a few hits in before I could run. I-uh- I ran into Danny actually. Like, literally ran into him and passed out. I woke up in his bed, we talked, and now I’m here. Heh- he made me drink a huge cup of milk and eat half a box of cookies first.”

“Wait.” The sheriff says. “This boy found you, saw you injured to the point of unconsciousness, and didn’t think to call me?”

Stiles tugs on Peter’s hair when he reveals “He saw me heal.”

Everyone stiffens at that.

Stiles continues “He asked if it was drugs. And if I got caught in the mob. Right now, he knows it’s not anything like that, but I can’t tell him on my own.”

Peter takes one last inhale, pulls back, and walks around until he’s looking Stiles in the eye. “Do you trust him?”

It amazes Stiles sometimes, just how much faith Peter has in him. He’s never even met Danny and yet Stiles could say anything and his alpha would take it as the gospel truth.

It’s probably because the very idea of lying to this man leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

“I trust that he’s a good person. And that he’s smart enough to both figure it out on his own and to avoid being manipulated by hunters.”

Peter nods and looks to Derek.

“He’s already helped us. Multiple times now and he’s never been given a reason why.” Derek answers.

“He doesn’t give up on people very easily. You’d probably have to outright betray him first.” Boyd says.

“And once you do…oh boy, you’d better watch out. There’s a reason he isn’t being bullied now that Jackson’s gone and it isn’t because he’s so likable.” Erica adds. 

Peter takes all this in and decides “Tell him if you like. But only if you’re sure.”

Stiles grins and falls from Derek’s arms into his alpha’s. Cozying up into his neck, he whispers “Thank you.” Peter smiles and holds him close for a moment before leading him to the living room. Everyone else follows and they all end up centered around the couch where Peter has Stiles curled up into his side. 

Like magic, suddenly the entire room lost its lightheartedness. 

“Gerard has to know I’m a werewolf by now. This is the second time I’ve been attacked.”

Derek growls in frustration. “But how? What does he want?”

“I don’t know. That’s sort of the problem.” Stiles sighs.

“What about your spy.”

“Wait…spy?” the sheriff asks, but is overpowered by Peter’s “Gerard hasn’t told her just what he’s after no matter how much enthusiasm she shows towards his ideals.”

“I never told you that.” Stiles says, confused.

Peter hands Stiles the burner they got him and says “Took her number from your contacts after our last meeting.”

Stiles scrolls through the contacts and- yep- there’s her number under… “I thought I was your princess?” Stiles mock pouts.

Peter doesn’t rise to the bait, choosing instead to snatch the phone back. “We can’t go to the clearing anymore, but it’s a manageable loss. We won’t need it for what I’ve got planned before the full moon.”

“What are we going to do?” Stiles asks before his dad can get a word in.

Peter smiles and drags Stiles up until they’re both standing “Just something to see if we want you in chains or not.”

“Oh.”

“Chains?” the sheriff asks, but it sounds more pained than the warning it was meant to be.

“Yes, nice sturdy chains designed specifically for long term use.” Peter declares before turning back to Stiles. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get all that blood off you.”

Stiles grimaces at the reminder and lets Peter lead him away.

 

*** 

 

It’s hours later, when everyone has either gone home or to their beds. When Stiles is dead to the world, clean and warm, that Peter hears it. Without waking Stiles, he takes his phone from the nightstand and reads the text.

From: Princess  
Sent: 11:03 p.m.

I’ll be shoe shopping alone at Journey at noon tomorrow. 

 

Peter reads it over again. There is only one Journey in Beacon Hills and, luckily enough, he was going to be there anyways. He puts the phone back down and goes to sleep.

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

“My big test is the mall.” Stiles deadpans. They’ve just parked outside the J.C Penny entrance. Peter smirks at him and says nothing. Which worries Stiles more that if he’d said literally anything else.

Stiles understands why as soon as they make it through J.C Penny and into the actual mall. Hundreds of sounds and smells assault Stiles on all sides and he can’t stop his whine. The click of heals, the food court around the corner, all of the heartbeats, the children, everything is almost too much. Stiles grips Peter’s hand and focuses on not unsheathing his claws as he adjusts.

And he thought high school was bad.

Peter squeezes his hand and Stiles breathes just a little easier. Stiles didn’t realize he was tearing up until suddenly Peter was there, dabbing the corner of his eyes with the pad of his thumbs. 

“You’re doing so well.” Peter cooed.

Stiles takes a breath, nods, and walks further into the mall. Peter never let’s go of his hand.

 

*** 

 

They’re actually relatively calm by the time noon rolls around. Stiles is only flinching at really sudden, really loud noises and seems to be sorting through scents with ease. They’re just finishing lunch when Peter leads them to Barnes & Noble. Stiles is left buried in comic books when Peter slips out to the shoe store across the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to notice that something is wrong. But by that time, Peter is already sneezing out wolfsbane and being dragged out the back door.

 

*** 

 

Stiles looks up an undeterminable amount of time later, alone. He does a quick scan for Peter, first with his eyes and then his ears, to no avail. He puts aside the comic he’d been reading and follows his scent to the entrance of the store only to lose it in the chaos of the main hall. Remaining calm, Stiles looks within to their pack bond. Except, he’s only met with dull silence.

Okay. He starting to panic a little.

He manages to pull his phone out of his pocket despite his impatience and dials Derek. The sigh of relief when Derek picks up is so pronounced that the cashier gives him a look. Stiles ignores it in favor of asking “Do you know where Peter is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t find him. Did he tell you if this was part of the test?”

“No.” Derek says, growing more worried himself. Peter wouldn’t do something like this without telling someone. Not with Gerard looming over them.

“Get here.”

“Already on my way.”

 

*** 

 

There is no way Derek got there so fast without speeding. Stiles barely notices. He runs up to him and says “I can’t find him anywhere. I thought I caught it once but then I lost it again and- “

Derek stops him by shaking him twice before letting go of his shoulders and saying “Bring me to where you caught his scent.”

Stiles nods frantically and darts back into the mall. They stop outside Journey’s where Derek takes the lead. He makes it to the back room and sneezes. 

“There was wolfsbane here.”

“I know.” Stiles rubs his nose.

Stiles’ phone rings. Both their eyes widen at Peter’s contact blaring out Emperor’s New Groove before Stiles hits the call button and brings the phone to his ear.

“Peter, I swear to god- “

“Such disrespect.” A gravelly, voice tuts. 

Everything in Stiles darkens. “Where is Peter.”

“Tired chasing your tails yet; are you?”

“Listen here you piece of- “ 

Gerard hung up. He hung up.

“He hung up on me!” Stiles growls, incredulously. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be sputtering in disbelief.

His phone pinged. It was a text message of an address and the obvious demands when dealing with a hostage. Derek quickly takes the phone away before Stiles could crush it. Stiles can’t seem to stop his claws from sheathing and unsheathing over and over again. His eyes are flashing and he can’t stop growling. Pack brother grabs him and pulls him somewhere. It’s easier to breathe here, just a bit. No walls keeping him from alpha. Pack brother lifts his muzzle. Stiles takes a deep breath and is off like a shot. 

He smells alpha. 

It’s faded, like someone tried to cover their scent but just missed the mark. He can feel his pack brother following him and he speeds up. But then he’s being pinned to the gravel and he can’t move and the scent is fading and, and…

“Stiles!” pack brother yells, but it’s muffled and why is he keeping him from alpha? 

“Stiles!”

Stiles? That’s…that’s him. He’s Stiles and he needs to get to Peter. He needs to rip Gerard apart for daring to touch what’s his. “Get off me.”

Derek obeys without thought. 

Stiles looks up and sees daylight fading. The full moon will be up soon. They need to make this quick. He has Derek read the address to him one more time and sets off. He knows exactly what part of town that’s in.

 

*** 

 

Gerard is a smug bastard and it makes Stiles’ skin crawl. He’s got two lackeys on either side of him like this is some old bond movie and a gun aimed right at his infuriatingly relaxed alpha. Stiles knows he’s acting as refined and human as possible just to piss the hunters off but that doesn’t make the urge to punch him any less potent. 

Derek is growling behind him. Stiles is perfectly still. He had gone stone cold at the sight of none other than Scott McCall and Lydia Martin standing off to the side. Scott standing protectively over Allison’s taped, unconscious body only serving to make him sneer cruelly at them.

He already had his moment of weakness, his moment of furious fire. Now he only has room for the cold detached look he deigns to give Gerard Argent. 

It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that Derek isn’t attacking solely because Stiles has not. 

Stiles’ footsteps echo throughout the abandoned warehouse as he makes his way to their side of the building. He only stops when Gerard tuts at them, nearly five feet from where Peter is kneeling on the ground.

The very sight makes Stiles want to hurl at the wrongness of such a pose.

“Did you know, there’s a rumor going around. If an alpha kills his betas, he gains his beta’s power.”

“You’re not here to make my alpha stronger.”

Gerard’s grin is sickening. “No. I'm not” And with that, he shoots Peter’s shoulder and shoves his arm into his fanged jaws. Near everyone freezes in pure shock. That is, until Gerard shoots Peter.

He shoots Peter before he could even move from his place sprawled on the floor. He shoots him right between the eyes.

Stiles snaps in time with their pack bond, so beautiful and vibrant and strong. He doesn’t see Scott’s smirk or Lydia’s cruel smile. He doesn’t see Gerard stumbling back as black blood started to leak out of him. All he could see is red. Red on the floor. Red in his eyes. 

Derek didn’t stop him this time. Derek fell to his knees by his alpha’s body as Stiles roars so loud the windows shake. It was a roar full of fury and loss and grief and it brought tears to Derek’s eyes. 

Gerard never stood a chance. Stiles was on him in seconds. Lost in his feral rage, he knocked him back. He shredded his arms so he couldn’t shoot. He shredded his legs so he couldn’t run. He shredded his tongue so he couldn’t lie. He took out his heart and he threw it across the room and he barely registered the rush of power running through him as Gerard took his last breath. 

He tears and he rips and he howls out his agony. He howls, straddling what was left of Gerard’s corpse. He howls for his pack. For his alpha. His friend. He howls for the perfect glow within him that isn’t there anymore. He howls for the cooking lessons he’ll never get and the chains he never wore. He howls for his pack brother who lost the last of his blood. He howls for the Hales. 

He sobs for the man he never got to love.

He sobs and he sobs and, through the fog, he looks up and sees Derek sobbing too, cradling his uncle to his chest. Stiles crawls over to him, covered in blood and claws clacking on the cement floor. They cling to each other over their alpha’s body and they break apart. No one can tell what is a howl or a cry. How human their grief is, but Scott is shaking his head. Muttering about how it was right and they’re safe now.

Stiles doesn’t hear.

He doesn’t hear Scott carry Allison out and he doesn’t hear Lydia stay, just like he never heard the hunters flee. Derek hears though. He hears her heart draw closer. He sees her raise her gun and he reacts instantly. He darts between her and Stiles. He grunts as the bullet meant for his alpha’s head burns into his shoulder and pounces in turn. He knocks her down and she hits her head on impact. Her body goes limp and her heart slows to the beat of the unconscious. 

Derek is about to finish her off when he hears Stiles whine. Immediately, he is back at his side. Holding him close as Stiles runs his hands over Peter’s face, never touching the precise hole in his forehead. He pretends not to hear as Stiles mutters feverishly his declarations of love and devotion and won’t you come back? Please? Look at me, not even using the chains. Aren’t you proud? You promised.

You promised you wouldn’t leave.

 

*** 

 

You swore not even death itself could take you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUFFER with me. I bawled like a baby writing this.
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> Send me title ideas in the comments!  
> Funny ones! Deep ones! Symbolic ones! Relevant quotes! Song titles! Song lyrics! Sarcastic ones! I want to read them all.


End file.
